Faith
by Pazel
Summary: Mello is overbearing and controlling. Matt is quiet and keeps to himself. Although the two make a for a perfect friendship, how did the two polar opposites even meet? R&R MxM
1. Matt

**I didn't have my Beta look this over, so please tell me what you think of it, okay? Thanks a lot!**

* * *

I entered the huge building for the first time at the age of young five. I was stunned at the time; my parents had just died and now I was walking hand-in-hand with a strange man whose hair was gelled back in a way that I believed only worked in the movies. He led into an even stranger, new world of wealth and loneliness and independence, and I had to take the steps myself, because he wasn't going to carry me. The world around me seemed to fade into nothingness as I was absorbed in thoughts and childish fears.

The architecture was amazing, and the place was extremely ritzy. There was a fountain in the front made from white marble. Clear water sprouted out from a black marble swan's beak into a umbrella around the lifeless animal until it crashed into the pool at the bottom.

Inside, the flawless white walls were carved with detail that was just as flawless, if even that. The floors were a tan marble, and my sneakers made a comforting, consistent noise as I walked. Even my smallest, feeblest breath echoed in the large space and I felt small. I looked up at the man who was leading me, and I noticed how straight his posture was. I noticed that he looked straight ahead, as if he had all the confidence in the world. Compared to him, I was an ant. Compared to this house, I was a molecule. I was surprised that I could feel so isolated in a monument so huge.

Watari, the man who was holding my frightened little hand, led me around the orphanage with gentle patience. He spoke to me calmly and in a tone that made me feel more adult than child, and so I immediately respected him. I soaked up everything he said, afraid that if I looked uninterested he would walk away and leave me alone. I suddenly felt very cold and tightened my sticky fingers around his hand. If he noticed, the only clue was a slight smile on his face.

We followed a long red carpet- it was just a single shade brighter than my hair- to two, huge white doors. On the front of the doors were carved angels playing harps. They looked up to the ceiling, their chubby cheeks as round as a baby's and their eyes just as large. Their dimpled fingers eternally plucked at the same string and their legs rested behind them. They looked completely peaceful and at rest and perfect, and I felt like I was looking at _them_ and not at a _carving_. I was surprised at how much more relaxed I felt as I looked at the cherubs; my knees stop wobbling and my breath was surer as we stopped in front of them.

Watari let go of my hand and grasped large bronze door handle and pulled apart the cherubs so that they were out of my sight. We were now in a carpeted common room that was filled with children of all ages. My heart picked up speed and I clung to the tails of the old man's tux. I knew that I looked like a scared little baby to the rest, but I didn't have the courage to let go of Watari, or even stand up straight. I concentrated fully on holding my chin up proudly, looking straight into the eyes of whoever challenged me. Besides, I doubted any of the others looked any different their first day. Right?

But nobody challenged me. No one seemed to notice I had even entered the room, and that made me feel less confident.

"Don't be afraid, Matt," the old man said, using my new alias. "They're all very friendly."

Subconsciously, I pulled my goggles down from my head and onto my eyes, blurring my vision in orange. My steps were hard as I reluctantly let go of his jacket and walked independently from Watari, as I knew I had to learn to do. I walked over to the television where several children were crowded around, their young minds completely absorbed in some cartoon I had no interest in. There was no hero in the show; there was no action. I had no reason to watch it, and neither did they. But they watched it anyway, completely lost in the fantasy of a world of talking sponges when they could be dreaming of a life of pirates or sorcerers.

My eyes tore away from the brightly lit television and I looked around, searching for someone who was just as bored by the stupid show as I was.

There were three people not watching television. One was a boy who was sitting in the corner, snapping pieces into a puzzle quietly. He didn't acknowledge me watching him, but I got the feeling that he knew. Since he was the first person I saw, I walked over to him.

"Hi, I'm Matt," I introduced quietly. I had to get to know someone, didn't I? I knew I could easily learn the ropes of the orphanage myself, but it would be so much easier and- dare I admit it?- happier, less lonely with someone by my side.

The boy looked up at me, his white hair falling out of his dark eyes as his head moved. "I'm Near."

"Don't talk to someone like him!" another person yelled.

I jumped and turned to the voice. A feminine boy was sitting at a dark wooden desk facing the far wall. He was sitting with the back of the seat between his legs, and he was watching me with careful interest. The boy bit into a bar of chocolate and his blue eyes glinted with a crazy glow that intrigued me.

"Who're you?" I asked, my voice steady and brave as I spoke to the boy. I was quite happy I could accomplish at _least _that.

"Mello," he answered as he took another bite. He swallowed it and went on, "and I own this orphanage. So you're better off hanging with me than with him." Mello wrinkled his nose as he looked disdainfully at Near.

"Don't listen to him," Near told me. He had long since gone back to his puzzle and was now almost done, clicking the last piece in to perfect its white surface. The blonde growled as he finished, only to be silenced by all of the pieces falling to the floor, clearing the board so Near could begin again.

"Y'always have to go do those dumb puzzles!" Mello growled, gripping the back of the chair so hard his knuckles were turning even whiter than his already pale skin.

Near didn't reply to that, only began snapping the pieces into their place once more.

I was amazed by how casual the two were as they slung insults back and forth.

In a moment of angry passion, Mello stood and knocked his chair to the ground violently. "Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything," Near defended quietly as he finished half of the puzzle.

"You might as well have!" the taller boy argued as he made his way over to us. "I know you were thinking it! Something insulting, too!"

"I'm not."

"You are; don't deny it!"

"Stop accusing me. You don't know anything.."

They went at it for a while longer before the third person, a young girl, sighed. "That's enough!" she screeched, looking over her shoulder from the canvas where she had been sketching. She stood in the middle of the room, paper under foot to protect the clean gray carpet. "Go argue somewhere else!" he pigtails swung as she turned her head back to her art.

"Annoying girl," Mello muttered to Near and I.

I smiled and looked up to the door. Watari had left, probably when he had seen me socializing. I shrugged mentally and looked at the two boys. The blonde feminine one, Mello, was staring at the smaller, calmer one, Near.

I took a mental note of this. It must have been normal behavior, since they both seemed so... comfortable being angry at each other. Rather, Mello seemed comfortable being angry, and Near seemed comfortable ignoring him or defending himself quietly.

"So," I said, hoping to begin a conversation with either of the two. _The first to talk will be my new friend_, I decided.

Unfortunately, neither spoke. I frowned, but said nothing else. Near had finished the puzzle for the third time and Mello on the ground with us, his back leaned against the wall, staring at his feet. The only sound in the room was from the television, the occasional bite of chocolate, and the consistent sound of the puzzle pieces. Being as bored as I was, I began tracing patterns into the fluffy carpet with my finger, humming absentmindedly. I sighed a few times, and by the third drawn out breath, Mello snapped.

"What?" he cried impatiently, snapping his head up to look at me.

"Mello! Be quiet!" the girl screamed before I could even open my mouth to answer my newest friend.

"Shut up, Linda! No one was talking to you. I was speaking to Matt," Mello retorted.

She picked up her canvas and marched out of the room, slamming the huge doors behind her. I could hear her muttering as she made her way down the hall.

"Touchy," I commented when she was out of the room.

"All girls are." Mello seemed deep in thought as he said that. He was chewing on another piece of bitter dark chocolate, his eyes crazy again.

Near looked up at him with a questioning look on his face mixed with a little annoyance and knowing. Mello looked at him and nodded, causing Near to sigh.

I was confused at the situation and at the way they seemed to be telepathic. I also couldn't help but be jealous that the two knew each other so well that they seemed to read each other's thoughts. Mello's excited look and Near's annoyed one made me wonder:_ what are they thinking?_


	2. The Attic

It wasn't so hard getting used to Wammy's. As Watari said, they were all very friendly and nice. I seemed to be popular with the girls, which Mello seemed to like, since he always hung out around me and showed off. We were friends, just not close. But we still talked and spent most of our time together.

We were the kind of friends that everybody has at some point in their lives. The friends that didn't really know each other's last name, and, if they _did _know it, they couldn't spell it.

It was okay, though. I was used to being alone. I was a socially inept only child who spent most of my time alone playing with action figures. I was so used to having only myself as company, that I really thought nothing of friends. I didn't need other people; I didn't need them at all.

--

My favorite spot was on the fourth floor- the attic- which was off limits to anyone who couldn't pick a lock. There was a dusty, cracked window up there that was nearly impossible to open. I hadn't believed I could do it until I realized that if I just pushed the glass to the right and wiggled it a little it would open a few inches at a time, with some elbow grease.

When it's not coated with dust, you can see far off to the park. We go there sometimes, but not too often, since there are so many kids. Once in a while, Watari would bring us to the park, although it was never much fun.

_"These swings don't go high enough, and you can't even get on them without waiting in line," Mello said on my first trip there. "I pushed a kid off once, but Roger got really mad and I had to sit out the rest of the time."_

_We sat on the jungle gym, on the top bars. Near sat under us in the cone of the jungle gym, surrounded by the crossing bars we had climbed up. I looked around and took in the sun. It was a Sunday in the middle of summer, and it was nice and warm on the metal bars.  
_

_"Oops!" I heard Mello exclaim. I turned to him and noticed his evil smirk. He was looking downward to Near, and my eyes instinctively followed his._

_Mello's shoe was in the sand beneath us, on top of a now-broken domino castle. _

_Near said nothing to defend himself, only threw the shoe to the other side of the cone and began rebuilding his castle. He caught Mello's next shoe with a sigh and threw it with the other. Mello's following laughter was strangely pure; full of absolute happiness. I couldn't help but admire the way he could laugh so freely, even after living in an orphanage his whole life. I had been there but three months, and I had yet to truly smile.  
_

I was looking out the window, my lips drawn into a sad little frown. I crawled out the window- a tight squeeze because it wasn't open very wide- and on to the landing. The landing was the top of the roof of the porch, and it was big enough to fit about three of me on either side, but I couldn't stretch my legs without my toes going over the edge. I usually sat with my knees hugged tightly to my chest, because I felt safest that way.

"Matt?"

I jumped so high, I nearly fell off. My head twisted to look straight into the blue eyes of the person who had disrupted my solitude.

"Mello?" I asked, attempting to be pleasant. I had once though having friends would be nice. Now I thought that all they did was take away what I wanted most: alone time. It was what I knew. I was too naive then to realize that I was really begging for companionship.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he squeezed through the window to sit with me on the roof.

"Sitting."

Mello didn't say anything after that, because he was smart enough to know I didn't want to talk.

Below us, we heard talking.

"..ad to talk to you in private. Who's the top student here?" The voice was a low murmur, and sounded like a teenage male.

The voice was strange to me, and so I turned to Mello, who shrugged in reply.

"Near, currently. But we have a very close second. A boy by the name of Mello," Watari answered.

"Who's that?" Mello's Irish whisper made me sigh. The people below probably knew we could hear their conversation.

"What are their grades?" the stranger asked, and I realized they hadn't heard Mello at all.

Watari deliberated a moment. "Almost perfect. But they're also taking courses years past anyone their age. Fluent in Japanese and English, both of them."

I looked at Mello, who was inching closer to the edge.

"Careful!" I hissed.

Mello's eyes peeked over the side, and I joined him, looking with interest to Watari and the stranger.

"But, of course, you already know that, L," Watari added slowly, with a comfortable chuckle.

"L?" I whispered.

My friend shrugged.

L was hidden behind a large tree. I frowned. _Who's L?_ To get a better look, I craned my neck as far as it would go, trying to look underneath the leaves. All I saw was dirty sneakers, and it made me even more curious to who find out who he was.

"Yes," L went on. "I do remember what it was like here."

_Here? L went here? _

"Can you see him?" Mello whispered to me, also craning his neck.

"No," I answered as I shook my head. I gripped the edge of the roof tightly and leaned forward, stretching a little further, daring death. I caught a glimpse of baggy jeans and a baggy white shirt before I felt myself fall.


	3. Best Friend

From behind my goggles, my eyes closed tightly. Instinctively, my arms flailed to grab a hold of the edge, but I missed in my panic. I dropped.

_I'm going to die._

I screamed, a low-pitch one as I plummeted to the ground.

A hand grabbed my right wrist so tightly I thought it was bound to break. I grabbed back, holding on to the small wrist of the one who had stopped my fall. My eyes opened and snapped upward to where Mello was holding my arm, his eyes wide and terrified. It was only then that I stopped screaming.

Watari ran around the tree. "Hello? What's happ-" His eyes widened at our situation. "Mello, hold him! We'll be right up!"

The old man and this L person ran into the house.

"Don't let go," I begged, too shocked to even cry. I looked down and then closed my eyes. Even the fence below me looked like a tiny little speck.

"Are you stupid?" Mello retorted. "I won't let you die!" He tried to sound sure, but I could tell that he was struggling to hold on, or even keep his own balance. With the hand he wasn't holding on to me with, he was holding onto the ledge for dear life. He tried to pull me up, but he ended up slipping a little because he wasn't at all strong enough. His knees, which he was sitting on, slid with my weight. One of his legs swung over the ledge in his unplanned action, and soon he fell off all but completely, holding on to the gutter so tightly I thought I heard it crack. He tried to use his legs as a second hand by closing them, one over the ledge; the other, underneath.

I was closer to the ground, and so afraid. My heart beat madly as I thought of dying this way_. I don't want to die... I don't want to die.._

Vibrations. I felt vibrations through Mello's body. Watari and L were running up the attic stairs!

"Mello!" L called as he slipped through the small window.

"L, can you do it?" Watari asked, his chubbier body unable to make its way through the stuck window. He jiggled it and tried to open it as he spoke. I tried to tell his how to do it, but I couldn't remember how.

L grabbed on to Mello by his shirt. I heard it tear slightly and my reaction was to automatically start flailing in mid-air.

"Matt! Matt, stop it! I can't hold on!" Mello cried, his free hand now clutching on to L's arm. I couldn't stop, my fear now taking over everything. I couldn't think anymore of anything other than saving myself, and so I flailed and screamed and kicked and wiggled. Mello held on loyally, though at the time, I didn't realize.

Our savior pulled Mello up over his head, pulling me up on the process. I noticed, once I was safe, that he was holding Mello with only his thumb and index finger.

L put us down and guided us through the window. Mello wasn't crying, and so I held back my own tears, afraid of looking like a kid to him.

"Are you two alright?" Watari asked us as soon as we were in the house.

"Yes," Mello answered. His voice was shaken a little, but his breathing was becoming more normal.

I was too afraid to speak. My heart was still pounding and I was dizzy. I let out a breath I had been holding for God knows how long and took in another, hoping it sounded casual.

Watari looked at me worriedly, but he didn't ask me anything; he just motioned for L to lead the way downstairs.

We walked down the stairs in silence. I stumbled once because of the dizziness. At first I worried that I looked stupid, but Mello stumbled twice, and even fell into L once, who in turn slipped down one step.

When we were in the hallway, Watari locked the attic with a tired smile. "I'm changing the lock tomorrow."

--

That night, I sat in my bed. I couldn't sleep as my mind raced with thoughts about why I hadn't died. People die all the time. Everyone has to go sooner or later. Why, when I was so close to dying, was I spared?

Why weren't my parents spared?

One tear ran down my cheek, and I wiped it away, determination filling my gut. _Someday, I will be strong enough to think about them without crying, or even tearing up,_ I promised myself quietly.

Mello moved around in bed, which was on the wall opposite me.

"Mello?" I called quietly. I was sure he was asleep, but-

"Yeah?" he mumbled back, obviously half asleep, if not sleep talking.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot," I blurted out, almost crying again. I took in a few short gasps, and prayed he hadn't heard that.

Mello turned again, probably toward me, but I couldn't see in the darkness. He yawned and then said, "of course. You're my best friend."

I didn't say anything, but I smiled. It felt nice to be called a best friend, even though I knew it was understood. He didn't move, but I knew he wasn't sleeping yet, because his breathing wasn't slow and even. _He's waiting for a response, _I thought. I almost laughed out loud, thinking that it was so much like him to expect praise back. Finally, I said, "you're my best friend, too."

"Mmhmm. I know," he answered, then immediately fell asleep.

I chuckled to myself as I turned over in my bed. I stared at the white wall for what was probably hours before I closed my eyes and fell asleep.


	4. Angel

"Mello!" I called as I ran through the hallway of Wammy's, holding my treasure tightly in my hands.

I was eight years old. Since my parents died, I had become taller and stronger and smarter. In the last year, I took third place in Wammy's, beating out children older than me. I had found video games quite recently, and realized that I had talent for them. I mean, who doesn't love being the hero? That's what we're trained for- being heroes. Being L. But, as I ran to my best friend's room, none of that mattered. I held on a little tighter to the object in my hands.

The hallway, orange tinted from my goggles, flashed by as I ran.

"Mello, look!" I panted as I stood outside the closed door of his room. I threw it open, hitting him in the head in the process.

"Damn it, Matt!" my best friend muttered as he rubbed his forehead. "I was _going _to open it." He took one look at me and sighed. "What's got you so riled up?"

I smiled and held the treasure up to his face so that it touched his nose. He snatched it out of my hands and held it further from his eyes, making it easier to read.

He read the front with no interest what so ever. "Grand Theft Auto."

"Not just _any _GTA," I informed, using the game's abbreviation. I paused for effect, but Mello's indifferent expression didn't change. "GTA four!"

Mello handed it back to me. "Ah. That's great. See you next week, then," he said, referring to the fact that each time I go a new game, I usually didn't come out of my room until I had played it several times over. He turned away from me and walked over to the wall and leaned against it. I tossed the game onto his bed, which was closest to us and the television.

I noticed Mello smiling to himself. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you smiling?"

"It's just that... you're never happier than when you get a new game." He watched me carefully, and I suddenly felt like an animal at the zoo.

My cheeks turned a light shade of pink at his words, and I turned my head away from him, feigning interest in the far wall. "Oh," I forced out, unsure of what else to say. When my face didn't feel unusually hot anymore, I turned back to Mello. He was hovering over the bed, looking at the Grand Theft Auto case.

"What's so great about this?" he asked, picking it up and looking at the back. I noticed his tone sounded kind of upset, but his expression was cool.

"It's fun. Wanna play?" I offered, knowing what his reaction would be.

"No way! Like I'd ever play those stupid games!" He set down the game and folded his arms- just like I knew he'd do- and sat on his bed. He crossed his legs, giving his body this amazingly feminine look. In the sky, the clouds must have parted, because the sun shined on him from the window a few feet away. He looked like an ange-

_What?_ I shook my head. _What's **wrong **with me?_ I pounded on my noggin, attempting to clear my thoughts away.

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

I looked up at Mello. The sun was still shining on him, as if God Himself was looking down on him. Mello's blonde hair shone more magnificently than normal. It cast off this glow, making it seem like he wore a halo. His blue eyes looked more innocent than I had ever seen, especially with that confused look that played on his face as he noticed that I was just staring at him. The sun made his pale skin glow a light yellow, and his black clothes gave off a similar light.

He looked like a painting.

He looked untouchable.

I was at a loss for words, and my jaw hung down limply and dumbly.

"Matt?" he called. I didn't hear that tint of annoyance to his voice, I only heard the word he said. _Why is he calling to me? _My mind felt like it couldn't think right, like it was crammed full of ideas and wants and needs and it couldn't sort anything.

There was a long pause before he called my name again. "Matt." This time, it was a statement, and filled with annoyance. Once again, I only heard that he was saying _my name._

Mello stood, the angelic glow the setting sun gave him not fading in the smallest way. Each muscle in his body was perfectly in sync with the other as he walked over to me slowly. I watched his eyes. They gave me the same look then that they gave me the first time I saw him.

Crazy. They were literally insane.

He elegantly raised his right arm and...

slapped me across the face.

"What's _wrong _with you? Were you having a seizure or stroke or something?" He stood in front of me, and my body blocked the sun from shining on him. He looked normal again, but even when he was _normal _he looked _extraordinary. _

I blinked and fully realized that I had just compared my _best friend _to an angel. I had just thought _he,_ the_ biggest _pain-in-the-ass in all of the orphanage, was one of God's favored creatures.

I rubbed my sore cheek.

_Somebody, please. Put me out of my misery._


	5. Grand Theft Auto

**Somehow, while I was writing this chapter, a POV change came about. I wasn't planning it, but I really wanted to get Mello's thoughts into the story, because I thought that it would be a little bland without it. Matt seemed to be a little confused with his thoughts of Mello, so I wanted to get Mello's changing feelings into it, too. x3 I think there might be a few more, but who knows? There might not. I don't really plan anything, so I really can't tell you. **

**---**

"Really, Matt. It can't possibly be healthy to just sit there playing a video game. It's been three days. Have you even gone to the bathroom?" Mello whined, laying on my bed because I was on his. It was closer to the television. Even though I used it more, he had _insisted _that he take the bed closest, and God help me if I argued. But, God help _him _if he argued me using his bed when I played a video game.

I mumbled in reply. I hadn't really even heard the question; I just knew he had said something.

Mello sighed and moved in my peripheral vision. He moved again, then again, as if he were trying to get my attention. I paused the game right in the middle of shooting someone and turned to him calmly.

"Yes, Mello?"

"Hm? I didn't say anything."

I knew that he had been trying to get my attention, but I turned back to my game and began playing again.

"Matt," he whispered.

I ignored him.

"Matt." Another whisper.

I ignored that, also.

Right in my ear, I heard, "Maaattttt."

I turned to see Mello's face _much _too close to my own. In a moment of panic- although I don't know why I was so startled- I fell off the bed, the controller still in my hands. Accidentally, I had pressed a few buttons, but luckily nothing had happened in my game.

I paused the game before any further damages could be done and crawled onto the bed. I looked up at my annoying friend who was staring at me with this extremely cat-like expression on his face. He seemed utterly pleased with himself, and I decided then and there that I'd probably murder him someday .

"Why did you do that?" I asked him. My voice was even and cool, like it always was when I was angry. I never let my anger get the best of me, and so I was labeled calm or collected. I just suppressed my anger and let it out in video games or converted it into energy for my schoolwork. I figured I'd get an A on my next math exam if Mello kept on interrupting my gaming like he was.

Mello shrugged. "I was bored."

I gritted my teeth, but forced myself not to punch him. _Why am I so angry?_

**~~ Mello's POV**

Matt stared at the television, concentrating so hard that it pissed me off. What was so great about that game that he had to ignore me completely to play them? Couldn't he wait, or something? God, I felt like breaking the damn game in half. I took an angry bite of my chocolate bar and set it on Matt's pillow, hoping that it would melt and get it all dirty.

"Matt," I whispered. Boredom was picking me to pieces, and annoying him seemed like the only remedy.

He didn't react. He probably hadn't heard me over the sounds of the game. In the back of my mind, I knew he was ignoring me.

"Matt," I whispered, turning up the volume just a little bit in my voice.

There was no reaction on his part, and that pissed me off more. I slithered off his bed and tiptoed over to him. The constant _click click click_ of his thumbs on the controller was enough to drive me up a wall with frustration, but I pushed the anger away.

I pressed my lips to his ear. "Maaattttt."

He turned to me with the most startled look on his face I had ever seen. That's when I realized how close our noses were. My eyes were wide at the closeness, but I felt too frozen to back away.

Not that it would have mattered, because the next thing I knew, he was on the floor on the other side of the bed.

The game paused, and his head popped up from behind the bed. I grinned evilly, my eyes narrowed and my lips turned up slightly at the edges.

That had been better than I could have ever expected.

He crawled onto the bed and glowered at me.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice shaking a bit as he tried to keep calm. I guessed he was plotting my murder.

I shrugged nonchalantly, my grin widening a bit. "I was bored."

He gritted his teeth, but I didn't find him in the least bit intimidating.

_ What's so scary about an angry, goggle-wearing redhead? Actually, he looks kinda cu...te...?_

_Holy shit._

_What?_

**~~Matt's POV**

I watched Mello closely. He was looking at the wall behind me, as if I wasn't even there. That was the first sign something was wrong.

He _always _looked at me.

His facial expressions were changing at an amazing pace: cat-like to happy, happy to confused, confused to horrified (that one made me look over my shoulder to see if something was there), and finally ended on a false peace.

Yes, I watched him very closely.

"I.... I want to get more chocolate," he finally said.

"Ok." I could tell he wanted to be alone- he had four bars in his drawer, and a half eaten one on... my pillow?

I watched him leave and close the door behind him. I noticed his steps had been shaky, which was unlike him. He had this amazing, unshakable confidence that I envied only the slightest bit. When he faltered, I knew that something was terribly wrong in that mind of his.

If I hadn't had GTA in front of me, I'd probably care a little more.

I shrugged and pressed play on my game.

--

Mello came back to our room late that night. I was woken up by the sound of the door opening and closing and Roger's voice.

"Lights out was an hour ago, Mello!" he was saying as he threw Mello into our room. "You should have been in here _then!"_

Mello scoffed, but made no attempt to defend himself. I raised my head and my sleepy eyes looked over to the door, which was then slammed closed by an angry old man.

In the light of the television, I could make out Mello's figure. I pressed pause on my game about two hours ago to rest my eyes and fallen asleep before I knew it. I was still on Mello's bed, and felt too weak from fatigue to get up. I let my head plop back down onto my arms- my makeshift pillow- and my eyes closed.

"Hey! Get off my bed!" Mello grumbled, pushing my side gently.

I murmured something incoherently, and I had forgotten what it was I tried to say as soon as I said it.

I heard Mello sigh and get on to the bed next to me.

"Sleep on my bed," I mumbled, being sure to speak a little more understandably. I wasn't sure why, but I felt uncomfortably comfortable with him so close.

I hated that feeling just as much as I loved it.

"No way. This is my bed. Go to your own!" he argued.

I knew he was right, but I couldn't bring myself to get up, even though I was now secretly wide awake. I mumbled, trying to sound half asleep.

I turned so that my back was to him. That seemed like the only movement I could make to get away from him, because my legs sure as hell weren't working.

I heard him yawn. "Goodnight," he whispered, burying his face into my back.

When I stopped sweating nervously from how he _cuddled_, I turned back to him. He was asleep, looking absolutely peaceful in the eerie light on the TV.

I pressed my forehead to his and fell asleep, my hand on top of his.


	6. Autumn

My eyes opened with the first lights of dawn. Mello was still sleeping in the position I had last seen him: forehead touching mine and my hand on his.

I raised an eyebrow and managed to slip off the bed without waking him. I dressed into new clothes and left my game on pause. I hadn't beaten it yet, but I knew I was close. I could almost taste the end of the game, and it tasted delicious.

But, I had a strange habit of leaving the game to sit a day before finishing it. First off, I needed to eat. I had had a few snacks while playing to hold me over through the duration, such as nachos and chicken wings. I really liked the chefs here; they were willing to make anything at any given time, with Mello as my messenger, of course. He wasn't the type of person who would normally do errands for other people, but when his best friend hasn't eaten in two days and doesn't look close to eating- or even getting up- any time soon, even he gives in.

I also had to use the bathroom. Over the three days, I allowed myself one, three-minute bathroom break a day. That's all, because I had an addictive personality that had to be satisfied by my games.

I sometimes wonder: Why games? What do I find so surreal about games? Then I picture it. A new game. It's like a, well, great high. Although I had never _been_ high, but I figured it must be close. It's a rush. It's a feeling of invincibility and calmness and inner peace- even when you're shooting innocent people to loot their pockets.

The ends justify it, right?

Right.

I dug through my drawers and pulled out random articles of clothing and threw them to the floor. Most of them were probably dirty, since both Mello and I hated doing our laundry like most children our age were obliged to do. I pulled on a clean- or clean enough- shirt. I smelled the sleeve to check.

_Mello _I thought to myself absentmindedly. It smelled like him, although there were no words to describe his smell other than _good. _It wasn't like the soap I usually smelled like. It wasn't like the house, which smelled like cedar and dust. It wasn't like the grass outside or the playground or shampoo or even chocolate. It was more like a mixture of trouble and knowledge and badass, or something corny like that.

In the early morning light, I must have accidentally put on his shirt, so I took it off and examined it. No, it was definitely mine. It was my normal striped shirt: black and white down the arms and white on the front and back torso part. I looked closer, turning it around at arms length, as if it would magically change into the dark black he normally wore.

I groaned a little, but I wasn't sure why. Annoyance? That word didn't seem to fit the feeling.

I put the shirt back on and turned to my sleeping roommate.

I narrowed my eyes as I watched his flicker closed quickly, and I knew he had been watching me the whole time, probably making fun of my confusion. Angrily, I smelled the shirt again. His smell still clung stubbornly to the fibers. I figured my shirt must have been under or on top of one of his, causing it to smell the way it did. He wouldn't have worn it, since it had white on it.

I stared at him, waiting for him to give up the act. It didn't take long; Mello didn't like doing useless things, and pretending he was asleep to someone who knew he wasn't was useless.

"Fine, fine," he muttered as he sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes and I watched as his chin-length blond hair fell into perfect place. I ran a hand through my red hair, feeling the tangles it had accumulated from days of not being brushed... or washed...

"Did you, uh... wear my shirt?" I began, knowing that it sounded stupid.

"Yeah, once."

My eyes bugged out of my head. Mello _never_ wore white, because _Near _wore white.

"Don't give me that look; I didn't like it, either." For a split second, he stared at me hard, eyes narrowed. He was thinking, and in a split second, he came up with something. Suddenly, I knew his next words would be a lie. "I had forgotten my shirt and I was coming out of the shower. Yours was lying there in the bathroom, and I said, 'Can I borrow this?' and you muttered, 'yeah' and so I wore it."

I had to keep myself from smiling. I knew he was lying, not only because of the way he had to think for a moment, but the tone of voice he used. It was... unMello-like. "Oh. I must have forgotten."

"You were playing that!" Mello shouted , pointing to the television. The game was still paused and a frozen picture was displayed on the screen. "That game you always play. What's it called?"

_He's changing the subject._

I shrugged and held my hands up defensively and rolled with it. "Okay, okay." Whatever. If he wanted to lie, I'd let him lie. I was the only person, other than Near, who could tell when he was lying. More importantly: why did my shirt smell so much like him? Sure, my cloths always bore a tint of his smell, but this was like he wore it every day. But I knew he didn't.

Then a thought came to me, but it was so absurd, so out of the question, that I ignored it completely. _What if he wore it to bed every night?_ No, that was the most ridiculous thing I had ever thought of, and I was ashamed of myself for even considering it.

Mello was still watching me. "What's with that face?" He didn't seem to care that I didn't answer his question about the game.

My face immediately relaxed into the confusion one has when too many thoughts run through their mind at once. "What face?"

"The face you w- never mind." He sighed in defeat and let the subject drop.

Without another thought, I walked over to the closet to grab my jacket, which I threw onto my bed. I grabbed my rain boots off the crammed floor and tugged them over my feet.

"I'm going for a walk," I announced, pulling my jacket over my shoulders to protect myself from the autumn air.

Mello watched me, but I didn't look up at him. "Where?"

"Anywhere," I mumbled into the zipper I was zipping up to my chin.

"I thought you didn't like going outside." His words were a statement and his tone was matter-of-fact, as if I was a book to him. A favorite book that he'd read over and over and knew every line to.

Did he really know me that well, that he was confident in every judge he made of me? In every fact he knew? In every word he said, was he confidant that I'd agree, that I'd relate?

It was true: I hated the outdoors ever since last year, when we had all gone to the park on an innocent summer day. Right here, in one of the best towns in London, a drive by shooting took one of the orphans.

The three year old had been standing thirty feet to my left when the bullet had whizzed into his left eye, killing him instantly.

I had seen the blood. So much of it, I thought I would drown. I had heard the screams. So loud, I thought I'd go deaf. Even now, a year later, it was all too real to have even been one moment in the past.

The culprits had been caught: just two drunken teenage boys, cocky amateurs with a loaded gun. And a little boy had paid for their idiocy. He died alone.

I was terrified for my life. _People._ People were evil. And so, I didn't go outside anymore. But on today, the darkening skies called to me, like sirens, to my doom. I walked down the familiar hallway and opened the large doors that lead to the outside world. I was met with a surprising amount of fear, but I took large strides as I walked out.

My old, navy blue jacket looked new from lack of use. It was warm enough to keep me comfortable, even in the early chill.

I watched my breath turn to steam as it left my mouth. My hands were jammed inside my pockets, but they were freezing cold from the damn silk-like material they were lined with. My yellow rain boots splashed in puddles that I failed to recognize as I thought quietly. I lowered my head, hiding my cold ears further into my hood, made of the same cold material as my pockets.

"Wait!"

I turned to see Mello running after me. He stopped suddenly and stared at me. Even in the bleak grayness, he looked otherworldly.

I didn't say a word, I just waited for him to speak.

He jogged over to me and pulled my right hand out of my pocket and clasped it in his own. His hand was bigger than mine and much warmer as he pressed his sweaty palm to my cold fingers.

"Why are you out here?" he asked me, holding on tightly to my hand, comforting me as I walked with him to my right and Fear to my left.

I paused, almost tripping Mello, and looked up at the sky. My hood fell off my head and onto my back as I sorted my thoughts. "I feel like I need to get used to walking outside, even if I don't get over my fear completely."

"Why?"

"I just feel like I need to."

"I'll take care of all that for you. When we get out of here, you'll live with me, and I'll do all the outside stuff for you. I'll shop and stuff." He looked down at me from the inch of height he had over me.

I stared into his eyes. They weren't joking eyes, they were completely serious. They held a level of seriousness that I had never seen in them before. Their blueness was suddenly very bright and knowing. They pulled me in held me down, and I couldn't look away.

"I'll take care of you," Mello whispered as he looked backward and began pulling me back to the house.

I walked a step behind him, our hands still clasped together in a childhood friend way, but I could see the tips of his ears burn red. Whether from cold or from holding my hand, I had to think about. His hand was so warm, it couldn't be from the cold.

He was embarrassed to hold me hand? No, he was holding on for dear life.

Then, what was the reason? As we walked hand-in-hand into the house, I felt my own cheeks burning from something other than the transition from the cold and frightening outdoors to the warm and safe indoors.

That's when I realized I was in love.


	7. A Void?

I was avoiding Mello.

And he knew it.

The moment I walked into the kitchen and around to the hallway pretending to not hear him as he called me, he knew that something was wrong. And it only got worse from there.

I walked down the hallway, mulling over the fact that the word 'avoid' was made up of 'a void'. It was like the creators of the word knew that ignoring someone- avoiding them- opened up a hole- a void- in your heart that can only every be closed with reconciliation.

I watched the paintings on the wall as I headed for the common room. It was sure to be full of children today, making it easy to lose myself in the chaos and forget that I was too pathetic to be around my best friend. I hadn't slept in our room in three days. Instead, I roomed with Near, who never seemed to mind my quiet presence. I ate at the most crowded table I could find. There, I could sit alone without being stared at by the others around me, because everyone was busy talking with friends and no one was watching me.

Occasionally I would see Mello glaring at me from where he sat alone, or feel his eyes on me, but he never forced me to come over to him. I think he was too afraid to find out why I was ignoring him. No, that couldn't be right. Mello wasn't afraid of anything. I sighed as I walked up to the familiar, cherub-carved doors.

He sat on the couch in the common room as I walked in. I saw the tip of a familiar blonde head over the couch and turned around to leave without even thinking.

"Matt," he called quietly. The room was empty except for us, and I was sure this was all due to Mello's bullying ability. I stopped short in the doorway, afraid of him. Afraid of myself. All I could hear was my heartbeat.

"Matt, I just want to talk to you." He didn't plead with me. He didn't whine. This was very uncharacteristic for him. He was being very calm and grown up, and that made me all the more afraid.

He sat staring straight ahead. He didn't turn to me; he didn't even move. He was forcing me to face him. He was my best friend turned love interest, and I felt like I was dying on the inside without him.

I turned back into the room and took a few shaky footsteps forward toward the couch. One foot in front of the other. _Left... Breathe... Right... Breathe... Left.. Right.. Left.. Right.. Left.. Right.. Left.. Right.. Left.. Right Left Right Left Right... Breathe! _

Since I had gotten here, the gray carpet had been gotten rid of and replaced with a yellow one, which was also gotten rid of. Now, a light green carpet covered the floor. It was new, but already had a few stains. The amount of children in this house made it impossible to keep anything good for a long- or even short- period of time.

I stopped behind Mello and placed my fingers on the back of the green swede couch on either side of his head.

"Yes?" I asked casually, watching the light that shined on his hair.

Mello didn't turn to me. He sat in the same position, without moving. "Why aren't you talking to me?"

I leaned over the back of the couch casually. "That's not true."

Mello didn't say anything, although I didn't expect him to. It was far too obvious that I _was_ avoiding him, and he wasn't going to be played.

Not even by me.

"Mello, I-" My mouth stopped talking. I had no clue what to say. I hung my head as I tried to conjure up anything that would make sense, other than, '_Please love me_'.

Mello stood up and walked around the couch. He stood at the arm of the sofa to the right of me and stopped. I turned to him.

His fists were clenched and his muscles tensed, making him look like a perfectly carved statue. He leaned forward a little, like he was ready to sprint out of the room, but his back was arched like he was ready to faint. His hair fell from behind his ears and covered his eyes and mouth, making it impossible for me to see his expression.

He brought his fist forward and slammed it against the back of the couch, growling a little as he did. An invisible shadow seemed to loom over his entire body, giving his words an ominous tone as he said, "why are you leaving me alone?"

He shook his head and his hair swayed, allowing me to see my unshakable, rude, proud, arrogant, trouble-making, brilliant, strong, impulsive, individualist, jerky, second-best, hate-filled, cold-hearted....... caring, generous, protective, carefree, lovable, fun-loving, helpful, supportive, funny, sweet best friend...

crying.

For all the times he had seen me sobbing, I had never seen him cry before.

Unlike most children- or adults, I concur- he didn't sob uncontrollably. He didn't shake, he didn't gasp... he didn't even wipe them away. He just allowed them to drip off his chin to the floor as he stared straight ahead.

The only clue he gave to show that he was even ashamed of his tears was the way he allowed his hair to cover them.

"Damn it, Matt!" He banged his fist against the couch again. His voice trembled, but only with the motion he made punching the couch.

My eyes shifted focus from his tears to his face.

"Damn it, Matt!" he cried again. He shook his head again and took in a deep breath. It sounded like the dying gasp of roadkill; cold, alone, and in pain.

Mello slapped his hand to his face and buried his head in it. He let out a cry. Just one, but it was heart wrenching. He screamed into his hand, letting out all of his frustration from my absence of three days.

Just three days.

Did it really affect him so much? I hadn't cried, and I was so much more breakable than he.

"Damn it," he whined in an octave much higher than his usual voice. "Damn..."

I had to hold on to my shirt to keep myself from hugging him.

_If I did, would he cry in my arms? _

"Mello?" I called gently from my place about two feet away from him.

He didn't react, but I knew he was listening. His hand dropped from his face and the tears stopped dripping as I spoke to him, saying things that sounded like complete nothing to me. I blabbered on, letting my apology drag on in hopes of getting him to forgive me.

"I'm sorry. I don't- I don't know what I was thinking. I just.. it's not my fault. Sometimes I.. I don't know. It makes sense in my head, it really does. But you just have to remember that I love you, o-"

My eyes widened.

_Fuck. __Fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck__fuck._

"-I don't _love _you. That sounded gay, and I'm not gay." I bit my lower lip at the lie. "Not that there's anything _wrong_ with gay people. I mean... you're my best friend, and I hate to see you like this, so please don't cry... Not that you were crying, or anything! I mean.. oh, God. I'm going to stop talking now."

Mello walked over to me, his hair still hiding his face. He grabbed my arm and hugged it close to his chest and patted my shoulder. I figured he was telling me he accepted my apology without having to speak and be embarrassed if his voice shook from the crying.

Through our clothes, I could feel his heart pounding against my arm.

**--  
**

**Three comments on my author's note. x3 Just for that, I wrote another chapter tonight. I did it quick, so excuse any and all little errors, okay?**


	8. Bad Day

Mello was the best kind of best friend to have. I had ignored him for three days straight, and we were immediately friends again, as if nothing had happened.

That bothered me a little; I felt like we should have some sort of talk about it, or something. A nice, long talk.

_Damn it. It's like I've become a woman._

I was sitting in history class, right next to Mello. We had assigned seats in the class, and Mello was _supposed _to be sitting across the room from me, but he never really listened to anyone. Plus, it was too hard to pass notes if we were that far away from each other.

I tiny piece of paper landed on my desk. I opened it, watching the teacher to make sure she didn't hear the crinkling of the paper.

_You lost the game, fucker!_

My eyes narrowed. Now I had to announce it.

I stood up. "Damn it, I lost the game," I stated, interrupting the teacher's lecture on Latin America.

"Excuse me?" she asked, staring me down. Throughout the class, a few angry groans could be heard.

"Nothing." I sat back into my chair as Mello erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Do the two of you have something you'd like to _share?"_ the teacher pressed.

"No, Ma'am," I answered as I pocketed Mello's note.

"Let me see that," she demanded, holding out her hand.

I looked at Mello, who looked at me. He shrugged and I reluctantly stood and handed her the note.

"You lost the ga- what!" the teacher mumbled, ending with a loud exclamation. She stared at Mello, then at me.

I ignored her and looked out the window. I ran a hand through my hair and the other rested on my hip while leaning my weight on one leg. This was my "relaxed pose", and Mello called it, and it always managed to make a few girls swoon. For what reason, I didn't know.

The teacher pointed to the door angrily. "I'd like to see the two of you outside, right now!"

"Idiot, Mello," Near commented from his spot in the back of the class.

"Keep you wise-ass comments to yourself, Near!" Mello complained.

I grabbed his collar and tugged it gently so to not choke him. "Let's just go, before we get into a lot of trouble with Roger, or even Watari."

Blushing, Mello followed. He muttered a few things as we marched out of the classroom, but getting kicked out wasn't something new to the troublemaker.

--

"....I hope not!" I heard the teacher finish after exactly thirteen minutes of yelling at us. I stared at my watch as she huffed at us angrily and went into the class, slamming the door in our faces.

"Geez, she won't even let us in!" Mello complained. "What a bitch."

"It's none of my business, but if you watched your language a little more, you wouldn't get thrown out. Or get me thrown out with you." I added the last sentence quickly and flatly, to let him know I was annoyed.

"What do you mean it's none of your business?" He looked at me like I grew another head. I tapped my shoulders just to check.

"It's not-"

"Everything about me is your business. And vice versa." My best friend stared at me hard, as if he was mad that I didn't already know this.

"O-oh. Okay."

After a long- well, short, but it felt long- awkward silence, Mello motioned for me to follow him. "Let's go... do something."

"Like what?" I had fully recovered from the awkwardness of our last conversation; an easy thing for eight-year-old boys to do. Now all I cared about was finding out what Mello wanted to do.

"Hmm.. let's.." Mello looked at me for a minute. "Let's play one of your video games."

I was surprised- no- I was utterly shocked. He hated watching screens for a long time, and he hated playing games where there wasn't a real "winner", although I had explained to him tons of times that video games _did, _in fact have a winner.

"If you really want to..."

"I really want to. It's not fair, you know. I bet that you do everything I want to do, just because you accept everything about me, right?"

I couldn't argue. Yes, I did everything Mello did. Not because of peer pressure; I knew he'd always be my friend even if I backed down, but because... well, because I liked to do what he did. I liked spending time with him. I liked him.

I frowned. "Yeah, so?"

Mello noticed my frown and narrowed his eyes a little. "_So_, I should do what you like to do."

"You're not obliged," I retorted. For some reason, I didn't want Mello to play with me. I didn't want to force him to. He didn't like games, and I didn't want him to think what I liked was stupid. I mean, he already thought it was stupid, but that's okay, since he hadn't any proof. He hadn't played them. If he played them and hated them, he'd have proof that they were stupid.

"Sounds like you don't want me to."

"I do..."

"You don't."

"I do."

"You don't. You don't want me around."

"I _always _want you around."

Mello took a step back. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. You're my best friend."

"Oh, yes. Yes, of course." Mello straightened his back and tugged at his shirt. He cleared his throat once and continued walking a few steps ahead of me, silently putting an end to all conversation that might have taken place.

We entered our room to find all of my game systems gone.

I ran to the television. All of the games were still there; piles upon piles of games, useless without a system. I looked around the television, under the beds, and in our bathroom. I ran out into the hallway and looked around there. Then I ran into the common room downstairs, but my gaming systems- _all of my systems, God damn it-_ were no where to be found.

I ran back to my room, where Mello was searching through the closet halfheartedly- or more like quarterheartedly.

When I was sure that my games were gone and that my life was over, I dropped to my knees in front of the television and screamed.


	9. Punishment

Roger ran into our room. "Matt? Matt, what's wrong?"

With hot tears running down my face, I turned to him and cried, "my games are gone!"

Roger rubbed his temples. "Yes, Matt. We were informed that you both got kicked out of class, am I correct?"

I nodded.

"So, we had to punish you. It's happened far too many times. I know Watari allows each child to act the way they want, but there still has to some order. He gave me the okay to take these things away from the two of you."

"The two..." Mello piped in cautiously. "I-I... got in trouble, too?"

Roger nodded slowly. "Well, ye-"

Mello leaped across his bed and opened the drawers of his bedside table.

"M... m... my chocolate!" Mello turned to Roger sharply.

"Well, we couldn't just punish Matt, could we?" Roger took one look at Mello's face and added a quick, "Good night!" before leaving the room.

I turned to see what had frightened Roger out of the room. Mello's face matched the color of my hair and the white of his eyes was a light pink. His nose was crinkled up, and it was almost like steam could shoot out of his ears at any minute. His eyes were narrowed and angry tears fell from his eyes. _I've seen him cry like this before; angry tears that all children cry when they have tantrums. But I've only seen him really _cry_ from actual _suffering_ that time the other day._

I realized, as I snapped out of my thoughts, that I should probably hide somewhere, 'cause Mello was about to burst.

_"I.... want... my... CHOCOLATE!"_

His scream was worse than mine had been; it was high pitched and sounded like it was scratching his throat raw. We were pampered children, not used to such defiance. Being punished in such a way was completely foreign, and it was like our minds didn't understand.

Especially Mello's mind.

He curled up into a screaming ball, his manic eyes staring hard at nothing at all.

Then, just as it had disappeared, his sanity came back. He stood, trembling on his angry feet. He took a few shaky steps toward the door and rested his delicate fingers on the brass handle. He turned to me slowly and gave me the same manic, trouble-making expression as the day I first saw him.

His sanity wasn't back at all.

"Let's go get it all back."

--

I followed him to Roger's room where we knew all the stuff would be stashed. Right in the corner was a small mountain of chocolate bars, my Wii, PlayStation 2, and an Xbox. Roger sat at his desk, going over records or some boring shit like that. Light jazz music could be heard from the CD player on the bed.

"I know where the bad floorboards are. I'll go," Mello offered, creeping into the bedroom. He grabbed three candy bars and shoved them into his pockets. He looked at the pile before grabbing my Xbox and a single controller and crept back to the door. He almost made it when Roger turned unexpectedly with a pile of papers.

"Mello!" he exclaimed, dropping the pile and jumping out of his seat.

Mello gasped. "Shit! Run, Matt, run!"

I fled and he followed on my heels, running through the orphanage until we made it to our room. I slammed the door with seconds to spare and locked it.

Roger banged on the door. "Matt! Mello! Open this door _at once! _Do you understand me? _Are you listening?"_

"Yeah, we're listening, old man," Mello mocked, a large chunk of chocolate in his mouth. "But we're not opening that door!"

"Matt!" Roger pleaded. "Matt, please talk some sense into him?"

I hooked up my Xbox to the television. "Why would I do that? You took my stuff, too."

There was a long silence on the other side of the door, then I heard Roger's defeated steps as he walked away.

I turned to Mello with an evil smirk. "When can we get the rest of it?"

--

By the next day, all of my game systems were back in our room, and Mello's candy bars were all tucked away safely in a different hiding spot. He had put them in the tree outside our window. It had a long, sturdy branch that held our weight with confidence. There was an old woodpecker nest that was long since abandoned. Mello placed his chocolates in there.

"Taking extra precaution?" I asked idly once he crawled back in through the window.

"Mmhmm. I'm not losing my chocolate again." Mello answered as he stashed an emergency bar into the drawer and bit into an open one.

I turned to my game systems then back to my best friend. I sighed heavily. My feelings for him were growing, but, for his sake, I knew I couldn't tell him. What if he didn't return, or even understand, what I was trying to tell him? I'd lose his friendship and, in doing so, lose myself.

"Matt?"

I snapped out of my thoughts. "Hm?"

"What... what do you think of me?"

Sure as hell wasn't expecting that. "I..."

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice impatient and stern.

I blurted out the first thing I though of. "I... think you're my best friend."

"That's all?"

"Yeah." I looked at him closely. "Why?"

Mello's fist clenched. "No reason."

Anyone else would have let it go. I would have, too, if I didn't want to hear him say three words so badly. "Tell me why. There's a reason."

"There's no reason!" he shouted, glaring at me with embarrassment and shock. He obviously didn't expect me to press him.

"Tell me!" I shouted back.

"No!" he growled.

"Just tell me, Mello!"

"No!"

"Say it!" I dared. "Or are you afraid?" I folded my arms in triumph and stared him down.

Mello looked at me through his lashes then down at the floor. "Yes," he admitted, making my arms fall to my sides, "I'm very afraid."


	10. Heaven

"Uhh.. what?"

Mello folded his arms proudly. "You heard me."

"What could you possibly be afraid of?" Although I didn't show it, I was anticipating his next words more than I'd like to admit.

"Nothing," he answered flatly. He pushed his hair behind his ears and shook his head lightly. I thought I heard him mutter, "nothing that you could understand," but I wasn't sure.

No! I was completely sure.

I shifted my weight. "Try me."

Mello narrowed his eyes at me. "Why do you want to know so badly?"

"I- I'm your best friend. Everything about you is my business," I answered, throwing an earlier argument in his face.

He scoffed in response, but didn't react otherwise. I was the only one who dared to treat him the way I did. My confident smirk faded as I watched him.

He was beautiful.

"Matt," he breathed gently, placing his hand on my face. I closed my eyes and leaned my head onto his palm. I sighed as his cold fingers brushed through my hair and against my ear. His other hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into him. His hand that had been on my cheek was now in my hair, holding onto it for dear life. His other arm was around my waist, holding me tightly.

I rested my head against his chest and grabbed on to his shirt by his shoulder blades. Everything felt very natural and very calm and controlled, as if I was a marionette controlled by the most talented puppeteer in the world.

**~~Mello's POV**

"Uhh.. what?" Matt's eyes gleamed at me from behind his orange goggles. I could still see the green, even through the darkly colored and harshly scraped plastic. I liked his eye color; it was different. I had a baby blue that other people seemed to like, but Matt's eyes reminded me of deer's eyes. They were always very nervous and jumped around, even when he was relaxed. They were very wide and lively and innocent, even when guilty.

I folded my arms. "You heard me," I muttered. My eyes stared into his, although he didn't seem to notice.

He stared at the floor nervously. "What could you possibly be afraid of?" He looked around, his eyes as nervous as always.

I sighed. "Nothing." I pushed my hair behind my ears. "Nothing that you could understand," I added in a whisper.

Matt stomped a foot to the ground. "Try me."

I narrowed my eyes at my best friend. I took a breath to calm myself then, with a pounding heart, sputtered out, "why do you want to know so badly?"

Without missing a beat, Matt threw back, "I- I'm your best friend. Everything about you is my business."

I let out a small, angry sigh and pouted as I mulled his words over.

My eyes drifted up to him and I just looked at him. He was watching me, mirroring my expression, and at that moment, I knew.

Without thinking, I breathed the name of the angel before me and reached out my hand to his face. He reacted in the way I hoped he would, giving in to it and resting his head on my hand. He moaned lightly as my fingers rubbed his ear and I saw him smile faintly.

I hugged him to me. He was a little shorter than me, so his head bumped into my chest. I ran my hand through his hair and buried my nose in it, smelling the red locks right to the scalp. He smelled faintly of soap and mostly like sweat, but I loved his smell, and I never wanted to let go.

**~~ Matt's POV**

It took a while before I remembered how to move my body again. My fingers slowly unwound from Mello's shirt and my head pulled away from his chest.

_Can eight year olds fall in love?_

Love had never occurred to me before I met Mello, but when he touched my cheek, I felt like I floating, like my chest was going to explode, like everything in the world was the way it should be. As he hugged me, I didn't believe in suffering. If someone were to tell me about war or genocide or starvation, I wouldn't have believed them; I wouldn't even have understood them. In Mello's arms, I was in heaven.

When we were two separate people again, I stared at my video games. Not because I wanted to play them; no, they had all been played a number of times. But because it was something to look at. I was far too cowardly to look at Mello.

He grabbed my chin forcefully. He didn't mean to do it, I knew that. He was a naturally forceful person, and he didn't know it.

"What?" My voice was surprised as he grabbed me. I stared into his eyes, even though I didn't want to.

He let go immediately, and I felt a little empty at our lack of touch. "I just wanted you to look at me," he admitted.

I reached out and grabbed his hands with my own. They were much colder than mine, but I didn't care all that much. I didn't even notice. All I noticed was that I had Mello to myself, in a silent understanding of love.

He kissed my fingers and I pulled my hands away sheepishly. I never knew he could be so tender as he looked at me with a playful smile.

He leaned in and I closed my eyes as he gave me a passionate kiss. Our lips danced clumsily for a while before getting into a steady rhythm with the other's. He held onto my shoulders to keep me from backing away for some much-needed air until our kiss faded into nothingness and he finally pulled away.


	11. Fourteen

A cigarette butt fell to the marble floor below me and was put out by my heavy boot. My fourteen-year-old eyes watched the orange world with silent appreciation as I listened to the sounds of my Game Boy. I walked down one of Wammy's many hallways distractedly as the extinguished cigarette got further and further behind me.

Over the years, I had become more and more twisted, no longer the happy, normal child I once was. I rarely talked to anyone, and as my intelligence became greater and greater, my quirks became more and more apparent. My addictive personality clung onto anything it could to calm the nerves that naturally jittered in my body.

A few weeks ago, Mello brought cigarettes to our room and we tried them. He nearly coughed up a lung, but I got the hang of it right away, and I liked them, too. He gave it up, like he gives up anything he can't accomplish on the first time. He watched me angrily as I puffed smoke without a problem. His face had been... cute. Yes, Mello was cute. And so I took up the habit, because I always saw a slight trace of the hatred inside him each time I effortlessly put out the butt of the stick.

As for the gaming, I had stacks of video games in our room, higher than even Mello's head when he wore those elevator shoes he liked so much. I played them all, and a few times, too. I played them over and over, and I never got tired of them. Mello began watching me play, and even joined in once or twice, but was really never too interested. I didn't care. I just liked it when he was close to me.

As I grew, I began shutting other people out. I didn't really mean to do it, it just kind of happened. I began giving all of my attention to my hobbies and habits. Mello, of course, was my favorite hobby, and my most addicting habit. I memorized him backwards and forwards, upside down and right ways up. I knew what he wanted before he said it. I knew what he was thinking even when his face held no expression at all.

I was a laid back person, and became more so over the years. Other people didn't matter to me unless Mello accepted them. Once they passed his approval, they got mine. If they got his hatred, they got mine. We never disagreed about anything, ever. I knew what he wanted and what he would say, and that was that. I didn't really care either way, and I never thought badly of him.

I loved him. There was no doubt about that.

I wanted to feel him.

I wanted to see him.

I wanted to sense him.

I wanted to smell him.

I wanted to taste him.

I was in love with a man.

Yes, I surely was twisted.

However, Mello was twisted, too. He didn't just steal candy bars anymore, and he justified his bad actions by pointing out the good results. Stealing cigarettes from the drug store? That's bad. The good results? His lover of six years ended up happy with the gift.

Not going to argue with that.

For the past few years, we began living for only each other. Whatever made one happy made the other just as joyous, we noticed, and so we did anything for the other. No matter what the circumstances were. Living for each other was a pact we made with our blood, like becoming blood brothers. Nothing would- nothing _could- _tear us apart. I was quite conscious of the fact that I would die for him, and I knew that he felt the same.

Mello wasn't the type of person to keep his opinions bottled up.

--

"Matt?" he called to me that night from his bed.

"Yeah?" I answered tiredly. I was on my back, looking up at the ceiling.

The moon let in some light that stretched over Mello's legs onto the walls closest to his bed. He looked at me, still as stone as he said, "I'd die for you."

I blinked a few times and turned onto my side so that I could look at him. My eyes were adjusted to the darkness, so I could make out his silhouette and see the way his hair covered his face when he was turned to me. At first, I felt too embarrassed to say anything, but I _wanted _to. "I would, too," I assured.

"I love you," he blurted out before I finished my sentence.

I turned back onto my back, then tossed onto my side to face away from him. "I do, too," I mumbled.

Mello tossed around behind me, and I closed my eyes as I listened to his troubled breath.

I didn't sleep well that night.

It had something to do with the air in the room. Mello didn't fall asleep before me, which almost always happened. Plus, I heard him sigh many times before I finally drifted off. I could tell, through some telepathic line that the two of us had formed after years of shutting others out, that he was _not _ok.

When I woke, he wasn't there.

I stood from my bed drowzily. I didn't think anything of his absence, and figured he was either in the bathroom- no, it was empty- or at breakfas-

There was a note on his pillow.

His pillow was on a perfectly made bed.

_W-what's going on? _I asked myself as I gathered up my courage to read the note.

My first thoughts were, _this is a joke._

_Dear Matt,_

_L is dead. I'm leaving Wammy's. Sorry I didn't wait for you. Please don't be mad with me, alright? I promise I'll find you._

_Someday._

_Wait for me. It won't be too long. Be patient._

_I love you._

_I can't take you yet, Matt. It's not time. I won't put you in a dangerous situation unless I'm sure of the outcome. _

_I'll never lose you because of my stupid ambitions. I know when I'm being ridiculous. And I'll never drag you into this.  
_

_I don't know how long this will take, Matt. It might take a few weeks, it might take a few years._

_And, if I lose you to someone else, then I'll win you back. If I have to, I'll steal you back. I'll tie you up and chain you to me, if necessary._

_You'll never live without me. I'm just away for a little while. I _will _come for you.  
_

_I love you._

_-Mello_

The note fell from between my numb fingers and floated innocently onto the bed below. It felt as if all the blood in my body fell to my toes; my head spun and I couldn't move. My body tingled with an emotion I hadn't felt in years.

Have you ever seen a fourteen-year-old boy cry?


	12. Months

Mello was really gone.

He told me to wait for him. I always did what he asked. However, I felt like this was the breaking point. I couldn't obey his every command anymore. It hurt, although I hated to admit it, that he had thrown me out.

I shook my head. He hadn't thrown me out. I had to have faith in him. He promised me something, and he never broke his promises.

It had been quite a while since he left, but I still saw his face whenever I closed my eyes.

How long had he been gone? Three months? Maybe four. I didn't know the date he left. I didn't know the date of _today_.

I felt lucky I remembered my name.

His voice rung in my ears of the last night I saw him. When he told me he loved me and that he'd die for me. I remembered the pitch and the pauses and the flow his words had. It had been very worried and nervous, and I had noticed. I would like to say that I hated him, but I didn't. I'd never be able to hate Mello.

Or forget him.

--

The days went on, and eventually I was able to leave our room again.

I got out of bed, not quite telling my body to move. It was working on its own, but I didn't object.

I let my legs take me to where they wanted to go, realizing all to late that they dropped me off at Mello's bed. His note was still on the spread where it had dropped to from my fingers.

I sat on Mello's bed and ran my hand over the warm blankets. My stomach rumbled. I hadn't eaten a whole meal in a long time.

_There was a knock on my door midday. I looked to Mello's empty bed for a minute, then up at the door, hoping it was him. Maybe that letter he left last night was a hoax, I thought to myself with false hope.  
_

_Another light knock. "Hello? Mello? Matt? It's the maid. Let me in. I need to make your beds." _

_I didn't say anything; just continued sitting on my bed with my head in my hands. I had stopped crying long ago, so I was confident that my voice wouldn't shake if I spoke, but I doubted I would._

_"I'm letting myself in," the maid's voice rang. She opened the door and walked in. "Oh! Matt? Where's Mello?"_

_"Gone," I answered. I was surprised at how smooth my voice was, as if nothing at all was wrong._

_"Gone?" the nurse repeated, as if she didn't understand the word._

_"Yeah," I answered.  
_

_She reached for the note on his bed. I jumped up and pushed her hand away gently. That was my note, not hers._

_"Please leave," I demanded softly.  
_

_She looked at me once and nodded. "Alright," she said before closing the door behind her.  
_

I stood from the bed. That was an unpleasant memory. I didn't want to think about him.

_Get out of my head, Mello! Leave me alone! You're gone aren't you? Then why are you still here? _I asked myself, desperately trying to cleanse myself of my misery.

I walked over to the door, my brain still not in charge of my body, and grasped the handle. I gained control of myself when my fingers closed over the knob, and I opened the door with a feeling of sadness and betrayal and determination. I walked out of my room for the first time since Mello left me behind, and decided to show Mello he was _nothing _to me.

--

I went to the lunch room alone for the first time since the tree days I separated myself from Mello.

I got my lunch. It was pizza, or something. It smelled cheesy, but my brain couldn't function enough to tell me what it was.

I looked for a spot to sit.

My first instinct was to look for our usual seat. There was no one there now, no one sitting where Mello used to wait for me. Secretly, I wished someone would call me to their table. I wanted someone to fill the space Mello had left in me.

No body would be able to do that.

I looked around nervously and went to my old seat. As I ate, I looked at my food.

Each time I looked up, I winced a little.

Where Mello should have sat was empty air.

--

That night, I sat awake in bed. It was another sleepless night.

I watched the sky turn from black to pink as I thought about Mello and myself and anything else that I thought of in my tired state.

_I'm pathetic._

_I miss him._

Those were the only two things in the world I knew to be true.

_No, I know three things:_

_1. I'm pathetic._

_2. I miss him._

_3. He's coming back._

_I know those three things are the absolute truth._

As morning came, I contemplated getting out of bed. I realized that it was only going to lead to my pain, and so I stayed in my room. But, for the first time in months, I turned on the television and plugged in my Xbox.


	13. Runaway

Time went on and I turned fifteen before I knew it. It wasn't a happy birthday without _him_, but I didn't allow myself to wallow in my misery. I smiled pleasantly at everyone, and everybody smiled pleasantly in return, and that was that. February first passed, and so did a little more of my memory of Mello's voice.

--

Months and months flew by, like pulling pages off a calendar. I kept myself busy by burying myself in my games, and when I opened my eyes one morning, it was November. The day flew, like any other. I was more enclosed in my shell than ever; I never spoke to anyone, I never even tried to interact.

I was in the common room, playing a portable alien game from the dollar store when I knew what I had to do.

I had to go find him.

I slipped the neon orange game into my spacious pocket and went to my room. When I got there, I looked at the tangled mess of wires that was my games, and realized with sadness that I could not take them with me. I looked around the room saw my tiny refrigerator and walked over to it automatically. There were a few sodas and waters. Water lasted longer, and so I stuffed my pockets with the waters. I took a half-empty bag of pretzels and put them into a mesh bag, along with a few small bags of chips and a few boxes of pocky.

I put on the warmest thing I had: a fluffy vest that kept my torso warm. I had a long-sleeve shirt and gloves on, my goggles, and my normal faded jeans. My boots kept my toes warm, and so I was sure that I wouldn't get too cold or sick if I was out in the cold for long amounts of time. I would be taken care of with the precautions I had taken, hopefully, and so I wasn't worried.

I had three packages of cigarettes in my pocket and a lighter, so I was all set.

When I was sure that I had all of the basic necessities, I slipped unnoticed to the front door.

I took a deep breath and reached for the handle. The door opened with ease, as if it was completely oblivious to my fear. I stepped out of the orphanage for the second time in six years.

--

It began raining that night, and I felt strong and hopeless. Underneath a drenched cardboard box next to a large blue dumpster I was curled, trying to keep warm and dry. My gloves wiped the raindrops off of my goggles, streaking the lenses so that it was even harder to see than when they were covered in droplettes. Not that it mattered; I was in an upturned, decaying television box.

--

By morning, my eyes and nose were running and my cough hurt my chest.

For a genius, I wasn't very smart.

My clothes were soaked through to my skin. My red hair was a shade darker and frizzy from the air-drying. I walked down the sidewalk like a zombie, my feet dragging behind me from lack of strength. I sniffed and wiped my runny nose on my damp arm, giving my face an even more uncomfortable feeling as the wet streaked my tender nose.

I had to stop. I couldn't breathe through my nose at all, and I couldn't see through the water that filled my eyes. My head pounded by my nose, telling me that I probably had a sinus infection.

_Damn._

I leaned against the brick wall of some building, crushing the mesh bag filled with food in between us. I rubbed my forehead in an attempt to dull the pain that wouldn't leave me alone. A car horn blared near me. I opened one eye to see a black car race through a red light, and closed my eyes to a chorus of angry horns.

--

I kept walking until I couldn't move anymore. It was getting dark and getting cold, and I wasn't completely dry yet. I'd be risking pneumonia to stay out like this! I didn't know where I was or even where I was going. Reluctantly, I turned around. I'd have to go back to Wammy's. I was too sick to go on walking to God knows where. But I noticed as I started back that I didn't know how to get home.

A feeling of helplessness drenched me, chilling me to the bone worse than the rain had. I looked around me at the dark streets and the dark houses and the dark cars, up to the dark sky. There was no one around me, no lights on anywhere except for the street lights. The houses looked not lived in, like everybody was somewhere else and I was all alone.

I watched my breath turn to steam as I pulled out a cigarette. They were a little damp, but not so bad that they wouldn't light. My red fingers fumbled to grab my blue lighter out of the same pocket. Somehow, they managed to flick it even though they were so cold.

Nothing.

I tried it again, with a little annoyance.

Nothing.

Again and again I flicked it, trying desperately to make the ember appear.

_It won't work. It won't work. _

In my aggravation, I threw it to the ground. There was a loud _pop! _as it hit the ground bottom first, telling me that it wasn't broken. I threw my cigarette to the concrete in anger, stepped on it, and continued walking forward, further and further away from the orphanage.

--

That night, I slept in a park. I pulled my arms under my vest to keep them close to my body. I didn't sleep that night. I sneezed and coughed and wheezed and shivered, but I didn't sleep. Animal sounds rang in my ears and made their way straight to my headache, intensening it with every hoot of an owl.

By morning, I had a high fever.

I couldn't even get up. My face was burning hot, but my body shook with cold. I curled into a ball, trying to keep warm; trying to not die, which I thought I was. Tears poured down my cheeks; I wasn't crying, they were just as runny as my nose.

I was sick. Sicker than I had ever been in my life, and I was in a park, somewhere in London, without a damn lighter. I knew I wouldn't get better lying in the cold grass in a ball, so I pushed my arms out through my vest sleeves and pulled myself up to my feet. I swayed as the blood rushed from my head to my feet and the ache in my temples increased.

"Mello," I moaned absentmindedly.

_That's right!_

The reason I was in this state was to find him!

My body surged momentarily with energy, before my headache worsened suddenly. I rubbed my head.

_I'll never find him._


	14. Kitty

I wobbled half consciously through the small park until I was on the sidewalk again. I coughed a few times as I walked along the road. Each time, my chest burned from whatever it was I coughed up.

_Take me home. Take me home. Please, someone. Pick me up and take me home. _I sneezed and moaned at the pain in my throat.

_I wanna go home._

That's all I thought as cars whizzed by, the drivers too wrapped up in their own lives to stop and help me. I watched them through my goggles and mentally begged them all to help me. It was so cold out.

No one helped me.

_Why is no one there when I need them? No one's ever there, damn it! Roger's at Wammy's; Watari's dead; L's dead; Mello's nowhere to be found... No one'll stop to give me a ride home! Didn't anyone see me? Please, I just want to go home.  
_

My heartbeat increased as a familiar tingle of sadness hurt my nose. To top it off, I realized my bladder was full. I had managed to go all yesterday on just urine, but I suppose that we all have to go number two at some point. Where?

I immediately thought of a gas station and began walking. A gas station had to pop up eventually, right? I continued dragging my feet, but at a faster pace. Eventually, I came to a run-down, rusty station. There was a man in oil-stained clothing sitting in a fold-up chair, listening to music so loud that my head ached with twice the intensity.

I walked past him and into the small convenient store, where another man was sitting quietly.

"Do you have bathrooms?" I asked. My throat hurt profusely, and my words came out very low. I was losing my voice.

"Not for the public, I'm sorry," the man answered me, never once looking up from his magazine.

I walked out without saying anything, and sat down on the sidewalk. My chest scratched as I coughed up phlegm harshly. I wasn't getting any better, and I was still all alone.

Suddenly, the sleek black car from yesterday screeched to a stop inches from my toes.

The darkly tinted passenger window slid down, and a man in his early twenties stuck his head out.

"Look, it's a stray cat!" he hollered as he looked back into the car; probably to his buddies. I pulled my goggles onto my forehead to see him clearly. He had curly honey blonde hair and blue eyes that weren't nearly as pretty as Mello's."Let's take 'em home," a second person said from the back seat, faceless to me in the shadow. His voice was husky and recognizable, but foreign to me. "Wanna come with us, little kitty?"

I actually contemplated going with them. I wanted to get out of the cold air that nipped at my ears. I sniffed and coughed.

The guys in the car looked at me.

"You're sick," the first man stated. "You'd better come with us, unless you wanna die on the streets, boy."

He was right. I couldn't just _get better_. I needed medicine, or something. I'd die on the streets if I kept this up.

I nodded, saving my throat the trouble. The evil glint in their eyes didn't bother me in my sick state as I got into the warm car.

There were five seats, and already five people in them. I had to squeeze in between a bulky man and the door.

"Good thing he's so skinny," the husky-voiced guy laughed, "or we'd never fit." He was no longer faceless; I could see him now that I was in the car. He had the other seat by the door and leaned against it comfortably. He was darkly skinned with dreadlocks, and probably around nineteen. He had a large, toothy smile and large teeth to match. His nose was his most obvious feature, taking up a lot of his face, but his eyes were a pretty light brown and sparkled in the darkness.

I sat next to a boy of probably seventeen. Not too much older than I, which was interesting. He had dark brown hair back in a short ponytail and dark brown eyes. He smiled awkwardly at me and then looked straight ahead.

The man in the middle of the other two was tall and muscular, with short brown hair. He didn't speak at all or even look at me. It was like they hadn't just let a strange boy in.

The driver was engulfed in the shadow of the dark car.

--

We drove until the driver put the car in park and led us out into the cold.

I stood up and the world spun in my head. I swayed and almost lost my footing, but I grabbed onto the car in time. I shivered at the transition from the warm to the cold, and coughed as all of the car doors closed. We were in front of some building that I had never seen before.

"C'mon," the boy my age encouraged, pushing lightly on my shoulder to get me to walk. I followed obediently, coughing until we were in the building. We were in a dark hallway stained orange by my goggles that I pulled down onto my eyes.

"Wait here," the same boy told me as they went inside another room. A moment later he returned and let me inside.

I was in a room with stained, old furniture and a group of men with a few sluttily-dressed girls. They looked at me curiously as I sniffed loudly from whatever I had caught.

"The poor boy's sick!" one of the girls exclaimed, rushing over to me and feeling my forehead. She led me to the couch and offered me a seat.

"Bathroom," I whispered before sitting. I didn't want to sit and get up and then get dizzy again.

"Oh, ok. Mello, will you take him to the bathroom? Help him, he looks like he's going to faint!" she shouted over her shoulder.

_Did she say Mello? No, she must be mistaken. He's not here. She's got the wrong person,_ I thought, my sick mind on the brink of delusions.

A boy walked into the room at that moment. From around the girl, I saw that he had chin-length blonde hair and eyes with a look of sheer insanity gleaming behind their baby blue color. It sounded like he bit off a chunk of chocolate as the girl moved out of his area of vision and he saw me.

The bar slipped to the dirty floor between his frozen fingers. His jaw slackened as he stared at me with a look of complete disbelief.

"Matt?" His voice came out as a whisper. After nearly three years, the first word I heard him say was my name.

Somehow, that didn't make me as happy as I thought it would. It made me feel betrayed and lonely and isolated. But, the more important thing was what I _didn't _feel.

There was no _love._

"Hi, Mello," I whispered back, my voice void of all emotion. I took a few feeble steps toward him and the world spun again and that's all I remember.


	15. Pneumonia

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a warm bed in a dark room. There were a few candles lit on my nightstand, but that was the only light. From the dim candlelight, I saw a shadow across the room.

I sat up in bed. My fever had gone down a bit, but not broken. When I moved, the world stayed still. I was thankful for that.

"You're finally awake," a voice called from the shadows.

"Yeah," I answered drowzily. "I'm thirsty, though."

A water bottle flew at me from the shadow. I caught it before it hit my face and drank it down in a few seconds.

"You slept for almost a whole day," Mello informed me. When I didn't reply, he went on to say, "why did you leave Wammy's?"

I considered this question carefully. _To find you _wasn't an answer I was willing to give. It would have been, three years ago. But now, with the lack of devotion to him in my heart, it just felt stupid.

"To get away," I answered.

"That's a lie."

"Is it, now?"

"You wanted to find me." His every word was very even and calm, but I could hear the anxiousness behind his collected face.

"I wanted to see my best friend again, yes." I intentionally used 'best friend' instead of 'lover' to see his reaction. Would he get the hint? Was he out of love, too?

There was an awkward silence as Mello took in my words. "Oh," he said finally. He let out a long breath and stood up. The shadow moved over to me until he was close enough that I could see his face. He patted me on the back, his face emotionless. "Nice to see you, too, buddy."

For some reason, his words stung.

Mello walked toward the door and opened it, flooding the room with unwelcomed light.

"Wait!" I cried. I bit my lower lip, cursing the fact that I had no filter in between my thoughts and words.

He turned sharply, and I noticed that his eyes were wider than usual.

"What... time is it?" I finished. My voice was uneven and obviously shaken.

"Three AM. Keep your voice down next time," he answered as he turned and walked out of the room.

_He doesn't love me, either. That's good, right? I'm not hurting at all. No, I'm just sick, so that's the only reason I feel like throwing up._

Then I had an epiphany.

_He had been watching me sleep the whole time._

--

The women fed and cared for me, and I felt a little light Hugh Hefner with the way they threw themselves on me. Sadistically, I loved the way Mello would glare at me whenever they kissed me or fussed over me_. But only because we're friends. He's jealous that I'm getting all the attention. That's why._

Within a the course of the day, my fever went up.

--

I sat in the hospital bed, wheezing out my breaths. I had just had an x-ray on my chest, and now a doctor was examining me.

The doctor pulled his stethoscope from my chest. The old man shook his head sadly and stroked him long white beard.

"It's pneumonia," he said sadly.

"Pneumonia!" Mello exclaimed from his chair next to my bed.

"At least he's a strong young boy. He should be able to get over it."

"_Should!" _Mello repeated.

"Well, Mello, sir, people _do _die from this. Even young people." Then the doctor looked at me. "Plenty of rest and liquid. We're letting you go home, but I'll write you a prescription for antibiotics and you should be fine, soon."

"_Home_? We're not letting him go _home! _I demand he stay here!" Mello yelled. He stood up and leaned over my bed to stare eye-to-eye at the doctor. "And you watch over him!"

"Mello," the doctor sighed, "I can't do that. There are sicker people-"

"I don't care about those people!"

"I can't-"

"I'll increase your pay," Mello bribed. The doctor worked for the hospital, but he also worked for Mello. Through bribes of money, Mello paid him to keep his mouth shut when taking care of the mafia members.

"Mello, my loyalty is first and foremost to my hospital and sicker patients. If he gets worse, bring him here." The doctor's tone was very matter-of-fact and that's-that.

"I'll tell your wife about your mistress," Mello threatened. His hands were clenched into fists.

"I'll stop treatment on your mafia. I'm the best doctor in London, you know that. You'd never get health care like this anywhere else!" The doctor stared at Mello with the same authority I used to.

Mello didn't argue anymore.

--

When Mello had gotten me into my bed and given me my medicine and a shitload of orange juice, he finally let me alone. Well, as alone as him sitting next to my bed could be.

Secretly, I liked how worried he was.

I coughed up more phlegm. My chest felt like it was going to crumble as I coughed up my lungs.

Mello reached out and stroked my hair gently.

I felt nothing at the contact. In fact, I swerved my head and pushed his hand away sickly.

"Don't touch me," I wheezed.

Mello looked at me surprisedly. His eyes were surprised and then they turned hurt. "Why?" he asked. His voice sounded like it was going to crumble.

I felt my heart begin to break.

I pushed that emotion away and thought of why I didn't want him to touch me. "I don't love you."

Mello sat very, very still. I didn't even see him breathe.

"Why?"

Why? I didn't know. Something from deep inside me spoke.

"Because you left me," I said, wondering what my next words would be. "You left me, and you didn't even say goodbye. You didn't warn me. You just left a note for me; a useless fucking note! Just like my parents! Do you know what happened to them?" Tears welled in my eyes and ran down. I pulled my goggles onto my head as I told the story. "They went out shopping and left me with my nanny. They left me a note. 'Gone shopping, be home soon!' And, guess what? They didn't come back! Their car crashed into a truck, driven by some suicidal drunk man. They never came back. You didn't, either! I had to go find you! Fuck you, Mello! Fuck you! Just get the fuck out!"


	16. Live Cherub

Mello didn't come back into my room, but if the door was open, I would often see the shadow of a thin person with messy, chin-length hair standing behind the door.

--

"It's getting better," the doctor told me one day with a tired sigh. He had been forced to come see me after work each day by Mello, although no one ever spoke of it. "Your lungs sound much better. Please just continue to take your antibiotics and rest." The old man took his eyes off me and looked to the door momentarily. "For my sake," he added quietly.

I smiled at his words and held in a chuckle. I coughed a few times; it must have sounded horrible because, when I opened my eyes, Mello was peering in nervously.

I stared at him angrily and pulled my goggles onto my eyes.

The doctor sighed. "Honestly, you two. It's almost like you're flirting."

"I am _not_ flirting with _him!_" I snapped unintentionally.

The doctor stared at me knowingly. "Ah. Well, then, you won't mind it if I pair him with my daughter?"

"Uhhh... What?" I asked dumbly. "Of course I wouldn't mind. I don't give a fuck what happens to him."

"Yeah, what?" Mello repeated. He jumped into the room, his heels on the thresh hold.

The doctor chuckled. "I need a favor from you. My daughter's going to a winter dance, like a prom, and-"

"No. No, no, no, no, no." Mello waved his hands in front of him. "I don't do that."

"I'll end my assistance to your mafia." He laughed, as if he expected Mello to react that way.

"I'll get someone else," Mello retorted.

"I'll pass on the word not to. They _will _listen to me. You'll be shit outta luck."

Mello bit his lower lip. He took a bite off a piece of his chocolate bar as he thought. "Just the damn prom? That's it?"

"You'll be expected to look like a gentleman, of course, but that's it." The doctor smiled triumphantly. He walked away from me and patted Mello's shoulder and walked away, leaving us alone.

Mello took a last look at me, his eyes pleading for me to object.

He walked away, listening only to the silence of the room.

--

The prom was here, and Mello stood in front of a full body mirror, staring at his reflection. He was wearing a black tux with a blue shirt underneath the jacket. His blonde hair was combed neatly, and he looked like a, well, gentleman.

I was feeling much better, and was out of bed. Somehow, I had become a part of the mafia, although I rarely did anything. I had had enough of the outside world for my lifetime.

"I'm going, alright?" Mello called, fixing his jacket. "I'll be home around midnight." When he looked up, he was frowning. Mello hated being told what to do and being forced to do those things.

I watched him out of my peripheral vision, never once giving him the satisfaction of seeing the color of my eyes.

"Bye, Matt," he called. His voice told me he was saying more than just goodbye. He was calling out to me, reaching out to me, one last time before he left. He hoped I'd stop him before he went on some petty date with some stupid girl. But I didn't. I didn't care; not at all.

--

One AM came and passed, and Mello did not come back.

--

Two.

--

Three.  
--

By three thirty, even I was worried. I hadn't fallen asleep. I had a cigarette in between my lips nervously as I paced around my room. _Where could he be?! Maybe the girl's loose and they're-_

I couldn't even finish the thought. I didn't want to picture my ex-best-friend/lover and some girl together.

Just because it was creepy, though.

--

When the clock struck six AM, I had gone through six packs of cigarettes and walked around my room about seven thousand times. I watched the sun rise with a fear in my heart that I had never known before.

Outside, a car door slammed loudly.

I frowned angrily. _Took him long enough!_

I heard light footsteps approaching I got confused. Mello's steps were always heavy and confident. When the person knocked on the door, I grew suspicious and afraid.

Someone opened the door, but I didn't know who from my room. I heard muffled voices, hearing unimportant bits of the conversation.

Finally, the stranger said, "we have him. We want four million dollars for him alive. Kill me, and you'll never get him. Also, you'll assure his death."

I ran out of my room to see a man dressed in black. He had on a ski mask and a long black trench coat. Through the buttoned buttons, I could see wiry hair.

A beard.

"Doctor?" I called softly, completely unaware that I was speaking. "Is he hurt?" My voice was sure and strong. The only reason I asked was because....

Who knows why I asked?

He turned to me sharply but said nothing. He walked out of the room and pulled off his ski mask. The doctor turned to me and smiled. "'Don't care what happens to him', huh?" He chuckled. "You're white as a ghost, son."

I felt my face absentmindedly. _What if Mello dies? What will I do then? Will I hurt? _I came to a single conclusion: Yes, I would hurt.

The doctor smiled at me and nodded once, then turned to the rest of the gang. "I'm serious. I get the money, or you don't get Mello. You have an hour to decide. He's in my car." The doctor tapped his pocket where he was hiding a gun. "You can watch him die. Wonder what that'll do to Matt, though?"

The gang looked at me and saw how pale I was. Tay, one of the girls, took my arm and led me to a chair, where my legs gave out and I fell onto the plush seat.

"What do we do?" the same girl whispered as she watched me nearly pass out.

"We hafta save him. He'd do the same for us."

Comments like that popped out of everyone's mouths, and in twenty minutes, everyone agreed on what they knew would happen as soon as the doctor spoke his proposition: we'd save him.

--

A plot had hatched. Tay would be sent out with a brief case containing four million dollars. Mello liked to keep the money within the base, and so it was easily accessible.

She would hide a knife in her pantyhose and kill whoever was sent to retrieve the money, since it was decided that the old man wasn't alone. Then, the rest of us would be armed and ready to kill the doctor, or anyone else around.

I had never held a gun before in my life, but I had one now. I was feeling the weight when Tay announced, "I'm ready."

We got into position as Tay walked out to the parking lot. She stood in the cold sunlight, and I watched from a nearby open window.

The car door opened and a small figure appeared. A child, no older than eight, walked over to Tay to retrieve the money. She was chubby and wearing a pink dress and had blonde hair that curled around her face and bounced as she walked.

The girl held out her small expectant hands and waiting for the box held by Tay. Her little fingers were shaking with obvious fear and her voice trembled when she spoke. Her large blue eyes looked like they were begging to go home safe.

"Please give me the money," I heard the young child say. Her voice rang like the tinkering of tiny bells, and her eyes shined with the curiosity of a baby doused by fear.

She looked like... like the cherubs on the common room door! She was a live cherub! An angel of God! How dare the doctor bring a baby angel into this?

Without a moment's hesitation, Tay stabbed the child in the heart and gunshots fired almost blindly into the car.

I felt the blood drain from my head as the world stained red with the blood of the innocent.

--

The gun fire stopped and the smoke cleared. The windows on the car were all shattered and the metal was dented and broken.

People were dead.

I saw the doctor slumped over in his chair, along with another accomplice. The cherub was face down in a puddle of her own blood.

I jumped out from the first floor window and ran to the car.

Someone stirred.

The back door opened and Mello stood up. There was splatters of blood all over him, but it didn't seem to be his own.

"Good job almost _killing _me!" he yelled. His hands were tied behind his back and his feet were tied together. He fell over.

I heard voices around me, but I didn't hear the words. Someone untied Mello, but I didn't see.

Tay grabbed my arm. "You should go back inside. You've seen a lot today." She tried to pull me with her, but I pulled my arm away from her grasp. Before I processed what was happening, I was holding Mello in my arms. I held his head to my chest, trying to force him to hear my heartbeat. I just wanted him to know I was alive.

I didn't cry. I had become too strong to cry, somehow. I felt like I had already lost the world the moment that little cherub had died. Now, all I had left was what I could hang on to, and I was desperately trying to hold on to Mello.

His arms held to me like a magnet, and I realized that _he_ was the one trying to hold on to _me._

The members of the gang went inside, giving our man-hug a moment of privacy. Their foot steps seemed to take hours to reach the door. When the door closed behind them, I kissed Mello's hair, his ear, his cheek, his neck, his chin, his lips- which he returned, his nose, his forehead, his other cheek, his other ear, and the nape of his neck underneath the second ear all very quickly. I pulled away from him and looked at his face. His eyes looked shocked, but they softened and he smiled.

Then, his smile became a smirk.

"You love me," he mocked.

I let go of him. "I don't."

His smirk widened. "You're crazy about me."

"I'm not."

"Then why did you kiss me?" He crossed his arms and his smirk didn't fade.

I thought it over a minute, producing an awkward silence. "I couldn't help it."

"Then you're crazy?"

"Yes."

"About me." It was a statement.

"No."

He kissed my lips, and I returned it just as passionately, cursing to myself the entire time.

"I," I panted as I pushed him away, "I was mad-"

"That I left," he finished.

I frowned. "And I-"

"Wanted me to hurt."

"That's pissing me off."

"I know." He smiled, and his face resembled the devil for only a split second until his expression changed to a very serious look.

"What?" I asked.

"If I were to leave again, would you forgive me?" he asked.

"If you were to leave again, I wouldn't look for you." I ran my hand through my tangled hair.

"I thought so."

"What if I were to leave?"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him. He grabbed me so that I couldn't get away and whispered into my ear, "I'll have to give you a reason to stay." He nipped at my neck, sucked at it, licked it, and kissed it until it was obnoxiously red and noticeable.

"A hickey? You think that's gonna make me stay?" I asked with annoyance when he finally let me go.

"I wasn't done, yet. That was just some foreplay." His expression became very cat-like until he turned into a demon right before my eyes.

I couldn't stop my body from reacting to his words.


	17. Sweat

Mello took my hand tenderly and led me around to the side of the building next to the dumpster. He pushed me up against the brick wall and just looked at me for a very long time. His light blue eyes caught the early morning sunlight from the side and it lit up his entire face, turning his lustful expression almost innocent.

He ran his fingers down my vest, intertwining his fingers with the fluff. He looked down at me through narrowed eyes as his fingers strayed from the vest down to my pants, where they felt something that absolutely excited them. They stretched out and spread apart from each other as he contemplated his next move.

I rested my head against the brick wall as the confused passion for my _first time_ rose inside me.

Mello undid my vest and let it fall to the smelly liquid that spilled out of the large dumpster next to us. His fingers slowly slid up to my face. I closed my eyes as they traveled to my goggled and pushed them slowly over my head and fell onto my vest.

I held on to Mello's shoulders the whole time as his arms worked, sending shivers through my body. His gloves were on the ground and his cold fingers were under my shirt, tickling my ribs and stomach, caressing my erect nipples, and feeling the hard beating of my racing heart.

I breathed harder as the cold air that once seemed to be striking me suddenly stopped. I didn't feel the temperature anymore as Mello pulled my shirt over my head and let it fall to the ground. He moved his hands all over my torso. I moaned lightly as his touch pleasured me to my core. His arms snaked around my neck and my hands grabbed onto his hips and his lips pressed against mine.

This was different than our other kisses. I felt like the only person in his world as his arms closed around my head in an attempt to make me his own. My stomach tingled as adrenaline exploded through my body.

I pulled him closer, squeezing him so tightly that it hurt him. He groaned at the pain and opened his mouth to voice a protest. After a second's hesitation, I leaned up and stuck my tongue into his open mouth and ran it over his tongue. He tasted bitter, like the dark chocolate he was constantly downing, but I probably tasted like biting into a cigarette.

Pushing aside the discomfort of the vice grip I had on him, he battled against my curious tongue playfully.

Lost in the passion, I rubbed my now painful erection against him. I pushed him away as sparks flew through me.

Mello chuckled and pulled me down to the cold concrete. I brushed my goggles off my vest as to not break them. I sat on my fluffy vest, but he sat on my legs.

I was sweating with lust but cold from the chilly air. Mello reached over to my forehead and wiped off the sweat, then kissed my nude chest, giving me the sensation of complete ecstasy. I moaned as he pulled away, but his smile promised me more.

His red-cold fingers grabbed onto the button of my jeans, trying to get it undone. They moved slowly and numbly, but eventually opened my fly. He leaned onto me and laid himself on me and kissed my lips playfully, almost teasingly. His lips lingered above mine and his chocolatey breath teased my nostrils and lips. I leaned in slightly and kissed him, but he pulled away with a smile on his face.

He swooped past my lips and went for my neck, kissing and licking it.

I moaned as he found a tender spot and he nipped it, bit it, licked it, kissed it, until I was panting and sweating. My hands began to wander. My fingers felt his lower stomach and ended at his pants, which were much too tight around the crotch area.

He shifted angrily on my legs and I pulled my fingers away quickly. He pulled his head away from my neck and smirked.

He palmed my erection, making me jump slightly from the contact. The same sparks flew in my abdomen and caused my heart to race.

He began massaging it with his index and middle finger, first very lightly then pressing down onto the head of my penis so perfectly that my hips bucked instinctively. That pushed his fingers hard into my sensitive member and I moaned in pain. His fingers bent backwards and he pulled his hand away quickly.

He moved the two fingers in front of his eyes, and when they weren't broken, he went back to business. This time, he used both hands, touching me and loving me with his palms.

Without stopping completely, he took one hand away to unzip my fly.

"Butt up," he said simply.

I pushed my butt off the ground and Mello pulled my pants down and off with one hand. With the other, he continued pleasuring me. He slid his other hand up the leg of my boxers and then allowed the other hand to let go of my penis and slid it up the other leg. His hands rubbed me so skillfully I was sure he wasn't a virgin.

I moaned with each breath that left my body. As Mello's rubbing went on, my moans turned to screams as I felt the sparks in my abdomen become an explosion. My whole body, starting with my penis and going upward, felt for a few seconds like it stopped and melted into electric zaps. My body became very stiff and then slowly became more relaxed than I had ever felt. Hot tears formed at the corners of my eyes as the unbearable pleasure pured out of any spot it could. My fingers wrapped into my vest beneath me simply because I had to hold on to _something_ as a dark spot appeared on my boxers.

Mello pulled his hands out and licked his hands clean.

"Even _this _tastes like cigarettes," he commented as he moved toward me slowly and pushed his lips against mine. It was true; I could taste my cum on his lips.

"I-" I tried to say during a moment our lips were apart. Before I could go one, he kissed me again. I made no motion to pull away; I would only speak during the moments our lips were pulled away from each other's. "-want to-" He kissed me again. "-to-" Our lips were once again put together after a short breath. "-taste you!" I finished quickly when he parted for another short breath.

He pulled away from me and looked me over skeptically. "You think you can do it?"

"Yes," I answered surely. How hard could it be?

Mello and I switched places and I sat on his legs. With hands shaking from cold and the pleasure of a recent orgasm, I let my fingers loop through the string that held his pants together. I pulled the leather barrier off him with a large amount of difficulty.

He wasn't wearing underwear.

"My pants are too tight, idiot," he answered to the strange look on my face.

His erection popped up quickly as I shrugged it off.

The I was hit with the realization that _I _had to make _Mello_ orgasm. _I_ somehow had to make myself take him into my _mouth_.

"You can't do it," he breathed, reaching down to his penis to relieve it himself.

I smacked his hand away and immediately dipped down and closed my mouth around his pulsing cock.

Mello twitched at my unexpected move, and his back arched as I began sucking on him.

I felt him pulse from between my wet lips, and I was strangely aware of every move his body made.

He bent his knees and spread his legs to give me more room.

My tongue circumnavigated his penis over and over, all the way to the head. He moaned very lightly as my tongue teased the tip of him. Sweat covered both our bodies; I felt it as my hands roamed his entire body.

I sucked on him more and more, just wanting to taste him.

"Matt..." he whispered. I licked his penis so that I could look up at his flushed face without stopping a constant flow of pleasure for him.

He whispered my name again, and I knew he was at his limit. I stuck my fingers in his mouth and the spit that had been accumulating in his tired mouth coated them nicely. I moved his legs so that they were apart and pushed my fingers, one at a time, into his entrance. He stiffened around my fingers momentarily, but quickly got used to the feeling.

After a moment or two of feeling around and touching his insides, sucking on his hardened penis, and moaning, he exploded into my mouth with a gasp of surprise.

His semen filled my mouth. It was a disgusting texture with a bitter flavor, but it was _his._ I swallowed it for that reason and kissed him on the lips. He licked my mouth, catching the flavor of himself.

When we pulled away, he smiled. "It wasn't as good as yours."

I blushed with embarrassment and started dressing without another word.


	18. Scar

We walked inside, our faces flushed and eyes tired. With his fingers, Mello fixed his hair to its normal perfection, but I left mine be. It always looked like I had just fucked, anyway.

Somehow, they all knew anyway.

We walked into a quiet room that immediately burst into evil snickers.

"What?" Mello snapped with his normal anger.

"Looks like _somebody_ just lost their virginity," someone commented.

Mello stayed calm and composed, but my ears burned red.

"Look at 'im blush!" Vic, one of the mafia members, teased.

Tay slapped him on the arm. "Leave the boys alone!"

Vic pulled her in close to him. "Your so sympathetic now, baby," he said as he kissed her, "but you killed that child without hesit-"

Tay stood and backhanded him hard across the face. Where her huge diamond rings hit his face were large, bleeding cuts.

"What the hell do you know?" she yelled. "It's not like I wanted to kill a little girl!" Tears poured over her eyes and onto her cheeks. "I'm not some psychotic child killer! I had to do it! I had to, to save Mello! I didn't have a choice! Do you think that I would have hurt that baby if I didn't have to? I _am _a woman, you know! More than anything, I just want to have a daughter! You have _no _idea how much I hurt when that knife stabbed into her! It was like I was the one being stabbed."

She drug her palm across his face again. Where the bands of her rings were, light pink marks were left on his other cheek.

"You don't know anything!" Tay stormed off sobbing and slammed the door to her bedroom.

Unconsciously, I caught Vic's eye and shook my head disapprovingly at him. I walked off to my room and locked the door behind me so that I could be alone.

Embarrassed murmurs floated around outside as Vic tried to brush off Tay's strange actions. I didn't listen; instead I closed the curtains in my room to shut myself out from the outside.

Thoughts of the little girl prodded my unwelcoming mind as I stared blankly at my television screen. It stared back at me, it's black surface reflecting me in the dim light of the small lamp behind me. I didn't save her. I was ashamed of how I just sat at the window; how cowardly that was.

Angrily, I pulled the lamp out of the wall and smashed it onto the floor. Now, the room was lit by the sunlight that snuck in from behind the curtains.

I jumped onto my bed and laid on my back with my arms as my pillow.

I thought of the little girl's murder and Tay's reaction. "So that's what this is about." By _this_ I meant _the mafia. _Mello's life was full of hard choices and sadness and death, and there was nothing he could do about it if he wanted to stay alive.

I rolled onto my side. "How did he end up here?" I asked myself very quietly.

There was a knock on my door. I pushed myself up and unlocked it. With each movement of my body, I felt the tingle of numbness. I turned away and walked back to my bed without even caring to see who it was.

Mello slid into my room and locked the door behind him. His footstep fell hard as he walked over the broken glass to me and sat on my bed. He laid down next to me and rested his head on my chest.

_Odd, _I thought.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Mello grabbed on to my shirt tightly. "We had to kill a little girl. And I didn't even care. Not until Tay freaked out like that. I thought, 'sometimes, there has to be sacrifices.' I thought that as I watched her bleed. Damn it, I'm as bad as Kira!" He sat up on me and stared into my eyes.

I stared back up at him with lazy eyes that were already in too much pain to feel it anymore. I grabbed his elbow and pulled him down onto me. To my surprise, he didn't object.

"She reminded me of the doors with the angels in Wammy's. You know, the ones that led to the common room. Did you ever notice those?" Mello asked me.

I hugged him, and immediately all pain that I felt went away, along with everyone and everything else in the world. This calming sensation took over me as I held onto the one and only good thing in my life: Mello. He was my heart outside of my body.

"I promised myself I wouldn't let her die," Mello went on to say. He pounded the bed with frustration. "But, when Tay stabbed her..." He didn't finish his sentence as he fought his tears. His strength from years of killing held up, and he won the fight. When he was sure his breath wouldn't shake, he went on in a whisper, "I think that my world just... broke. I don't know how else to explain it."

I didn't have the same strength as Mello, and I buried my goggled face into his shoulder and weeped silently, smelling his comforting smell. I felt no different than he.

We stayed like that all day.

--

Mello fell asleep in my arms that night. When I stirred, all pain and sadness of the little girl was gone, but I had a new scar etched into my already beat up heart. Subconsciously, I knew that the death of the child would change my life in a way that I couldn't even understand.

When my eyes opened, Mello was already awake and watching me with a very soft look on his face.

"Wha?" I yawned out.

He mocked me to change the subject and got off me. "You're finally awake."

I kissed his cheek and took in his smell again inconspicuously.

Or not.

"Stop smelling me!" he argued, pushing me aside. He was blushing madly and I smiled, confident in myself for the first real time.

"You like it."

Mello's eyes widened. "Yeah."

I ruffled his hair, much to his dismay, and stood. He frowned cutely- although I figured it would seem terrifying to anyone else- and stood behind me.

I decided to play with him.

I pulled off my shirt casually and threw it into the corner where the rest of my dirty laundry gathered into a mountain of smelly clothes. I heard Mello squeak and turned to him slowly, hiding my smile.

His cheeks were uncharacteristically firetruck red, half hidden by his hair. His fists were clenched and he was holding his breath. I turned quickly away so that I could smile safely. I rummaged through my drawers for a clean shirt. Halfway into the last drawer, I found one, token shirt.

I pulled it on slowly and smelled it to check its cleanliness. My eyes narrowed and I turned to him.

"Why does it smell like you?" I stared at him accusingly, while my insides secretly rejoiced at the find.

Mello's head snapped up at me, his face shocked and embarrassed. He lowered his head but didn't break eye contact. He bit his lower lip and scrunched his eyebrows in the was a five year old would after being caught breaking something.

I took a confident step forward. He stood up straight, the five-year-old face gone.

"I take things that remind me of you the night before I go away somewhere."

"Why?"

"In case I don't come back."

I took a step backwards, then smiled. "Why don't you just come to my bed?"

Mello's face, which had gone back to normal, turned a light pink. After a moment, the blush subsided and he looked up at me with a smile that made me regret my words and turned my face white. "Maybe I will."

**Songbird Severine told me to write a little more on the little girl's death, and I didn't really know what to do with that. This is what I came up with. :D?**


	19. Loneliness

_I love Mello._

That's the first thing I think when I open my eyes in the morning.

_I love Mello._

That's the last thing I think when I close my eyes at night.

_I love Mello._

That's all I think all day long.

Especially when he's gone on business.

I sat on an old, rickety chair in front of the window in my room, watching the snow falling to the ground gracefully. The trees and ground were painted pure white. Everything was covered in inches of snow, and it was still falling.

It was so peaceful, but it wasn't dousing the fire inside me.

Mello had been gone for a few days now, somewhere in America, to collect a large bounty. I stared absentmindedly at the snow.

_I'm sad._

I hated it every time he left. I missed him terribly. More than that, I worried. Would he die so far away from me? What if I wasn't there?

I hated that I was a sixteen year old boy, hopelessly in love. And with a seventeen-year-old boy, no less.

I rested my head on my arms. _Seventeen today._ December 13.

Mello was away from me on his birthday.

--

The sun sank below the horizon behind me. My head was buried in my arms. In my mind, I dreamed of spending the day with Mello, just Mello. We would just sit together on the old couch, underneath the large blanket he kept in his room, surrounded in darkness, covered in the sweat of lust and love. It would be a perfect way to spend his birthday.

I pushed myself away from the window sill and stood up. I listened to the sounds of the chair as I moved off it. I listened to my footsteps as I paced through my room.

_Where is he now? What's he doing? Is he hurt? Is he thinking of me? Did he have a good birthday?_

I ran a hand through my knotted hair and pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I took a deep drag of the stick and closed my eyes as the smoke floated out of my mouth with my exhale.

_I miss Mello._

On his birthday, I wish I could be with him, but, due to the mafia, he's forced to leave at a moment's notice.

_"Hey, Matt?" Mello called from outside my locked door._

_I walked over to it lazily and clicked the lock to let him in. He closed the door behind him and locked it again. He always did that, so that we were never disturbed by anyone when we were alone._

_"Matt, I have to go to America for a few days." _

_"Okay."_

_"I'm not sure when I'll be back," he informed me as he searched through my drawers, "but it shouldn't be too long."_

It was only the sixteenth of November, so it didn't even occur to me he might not be home for his birthday.

_"I'm taking.... this." He held up a pair of Mario boxers with a smile._

_I snatched them out of his grasp. "Leave my underwear alone, you bastard!" I buried them back in my drawer, underneath everything. I closed the drawer and pressed my legs against it to block his way. "What do you want? I'll get it for you," I grumbled.  
_

_"I want..." he paused for a while and stared at me. In my mind, I saw little devil horns pop out of his head._

_He stepped over to me and locked me in-between the dresser and him. He watched his legs as he stuck one between mine. He looked up at me from under his lashes, giving me the sexy look he never shows anyone else._

_I backed away, pushing my torso back as far as I could over the empty dresser table. Mello followed, leaning forward, our stomaches pressed together. _

_His arms grabbed me tightly and pulled me closer to him. He kissed me, and my body ceased to move away. All I could do was kiss back and twist my fingers in his hair._

_When he pulled away, I tugged the ends of my shirt nervously. My eyes traveled upwards and looked into his. He was watching my every movement, and I stood up straight. Mello cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he examined me._

_"What?" I asked. I shifted uneasily under his gaze._

_"The way you move," he replied._

_"What about it?"_

_"It's amazing."_

_"L-leave!" I pushed him to the door and jiggled the knob. After a while of trying, I remembered it was locked. _

_Mello chuckled and glided around me. He hugged my back to his stomach and kissed the side of my neck. "I won't leave until you give me something that smells like you."_

_I wiggled out of his grasp, muttering angrily to hide my embarrassment. I looked in my drawer and pulled out a shirt. I threw it and it landed on his head._

_"Ass," he whispered loudly enough for me to hear as he pulled the shirt off his head. His hair was a mess of static electricity, and I smiled at his angry expression._

_He kissed me again and the shirt fell to the floor. He pushed me backwards, and I walked until my calves hit the bed and I fell onto it, never once breaking the kiss.  
_

When he left my room early the next morning, I expected him home before December.

Three weeks into January, he finally came home.

I wanted to yell at him, but that would be unfair. It's not like he _wanted _to miss his birthday and Christmas and New Years.

"Damn it!" I yelled when he returned my shirt, which now smelled like him.

"Sorry, Matt. It's not like that was planned!" he retorted. He was angry because I was angry, and his words were harsh with me.

"You... you..." I couldn't get my words out.

"I'm sorry! Didn't you hear me? I had to do my job!"

"No phone calls? No letters? No nothing!"

"I was busy! You couldn't have expected that!"

"I thought you were dead!"

Mello's anger subsided immediately. He hugged me and I threw my arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered into my ear. Chills ran through my body as his breath tickled my neck.

"I'm glad you're home," I answered.


	20. Us

My nineteenth birthday wasn't a very happy day.

Mello had shut himself up in his room all day for unknown reasons, and nobody talked to me. It was almost like I was the walking plague.

"Mello," I grumbled as I snuck into his room late that night.

"Hm?" he looked up me with a strange look on his face that I brushed aside.

"It's my birthday." I smiled shyly in anticipation. I wasn't a very superficial person, and whether or not he bought me anything meant close to nothing to me, but birthday nights were always a lot of _fun_.

"Oh," he replied emotionlessly. "I need to talk to you." He was sitting on the floor, but he stood solemnly. He faced the wall away from me.

"What?" I sat on his bed comfortably as I waited for him to speak. He seemed to be upset with something, and I wanted to comfort him.

"It's not going to work," he told me with a sigh.

"Hm?" I looked at his back, which still faced me. "What's not gonna work?"

Mello turned to me. His eyes were very sad and regretful. He looked down at the floor as he put his thoughts together, then back up at me. The air felt very still and sticky around me, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I knew what was coming, but I didn't believe it.

"Us."


	21. Aftermath

**~Mello's POV**

Over. Over.

The look on his face.

I had finally told him it was over. I felt great. Of course I did. I had done what I had set out to do. I felt wonderful.

But it wasn't like I didn't love him anymore.

Damn it, I loved him with everything I had! But I didn't have a choice. With the Death Note, things were getting too dangerous. If he died and I still loved him, what would I become? I'd sit on the couch and eat bonbons for the rest of my life, and I couldn't have that. I had to push him out of my mind; I had to forget what I felt for him. And I needed him to do the same. I didn't want to be the cause of his pain.

I wanted to be the cause of his happiness, but I wasn't stupid, and I wasn't naive. I knew that it would all come to an end.

_Everything _comes to an end.

_"We're... done?" he asked me. His voice sounded almost disbelieving, but his face was very stiff, as if he had expected this._

_"Yeah." That was all I could say. If I didn't filter my words carefully, I would probably end up spilling everything and telling him the whole truth._

_I _couldn't_ do that._

_Matt didn't question me. Instead, he figured it all out. I hadn't expected that. I had thought he would just leave the room and let me brood.  
_

_He took off his shirt and threw it at me. I caught it and looked up at him._

_"For until you come back to me," he said as he left my room._

I played with the shirt that he had left me. With my last ounce of strength, I chucked it out the open window and watched the wind carry it far away.

That was all the strength I had.

Emotional strength, that is.

Two tears dripped off my chin and onto my boots as I stared at the full moon in the black sky. For the first time in a very, very long time, tears fell. But only two. One for Matt, and one for myself.

A single tear for myself. I deserved that much, didn't I?

_Why is the whole world against me?_

I was used to that; used to fending for myself. But I was tired of it; so tired of it. I was _so tired _of being my own savior. I had nobody on my side. Everybody had left me alone. They hadn't got the subtle signs that I needed them. It was like everybody had just melted away and left me in the darkness. It wasn't like I wasn't _used_ to the darkness, but everybody else was in it, too, and so they were like my candles in the blackness. Now, nobody was left, and I was all alone, fighting my way through the impossible. Where was everybody?

_Who _was everybody? Who were my candles? I didn't even understand who I was talking about when I thought of this. I didn't even understand who I was directing this metaphor to!

I thought about it, and came to a conclusion that made my stomach sick.

Matt was everybody. Matt was my candles.

My everybody hadn't left _me_. _I _had pushed them away.

I had to get away for a little while.

I stepped out of my first-floor window and onto a few hedges. I heard my doorknob turn behind me, but I walked over to my motorcycle.

A little ride would do me good.

--

**~Matt's POV**

I sat on the couch, taking a break from my video games for a while with a cigarette.

I thought about Mello and his annoying words. I knew he still loved me. OF course he still loved me.

_But what if he __didn't? _My mind warred._ What if he had quite honestly gotten over me? After all these years? It's impossible. Right?_

_'Course it's impossible. He still loves you._

_Does he really? He broke up with me._

_He looked so sad, though._

_But what if he was only worried about me?_

_He'd only worry about you if he loved you._

_Or if he thought I was his best friend._

_He's stronger than to just worry so much over a close friend._

_We're like brothers. He's not just a "close friend"._

_You're more like lovers._

_What if we're not?_

_You are._

_He broke up with me. He stated that we didn't "work" anymore._

_There's something on his mind._

_Is there?_

_Of course!  
_

_Should I go find out what it is?_

_He wants you to._

_What if he doesn't?_

_He needs you._

_What if he doesn't?_

_You won't know until you try._

_I don't want to bother him. Besides, he's like fucking Superman. He doesn't need anyone._

_Even Superman has weaknesses. What if he's found his kryptonite? He can't stay strong forever.  
_

I found myself running to his room at my conclusion. I turned the knob, but the door was locked. I pounded on it with my fist.

"Mello! Mello, open up!" My voice was hoarse from lack of use. I hadn't talked in the three days since he had ended what we had together.

No reply.

I pressed my ears to his door. I didn't even hear the sound of crunching chocolate.

With all my strength, I tackled the door. It took a few tries, but I finally got it to fall.

His room was empty. The only signs of his departure was the wind blowing in through the open window and the distant sounds of a motorcycle.

I ran to get my car keys.


	22. Chase

The car drove sluggishly slow as I sailed down the empty streets at 80 MPH.

Just ahead of me I saw Mello's bike, the single taillight taunting me as it distanced itself from me.

"I'm not letting you get away!" I growled. I stuck my head out of the window and screamed, "I'll run you over before I let you get away!"

Finally, I was right behind him. He swerved to the right in an attempt to make me slam on my brakes, but I swerved to the left and sped up. My car blocked his path and he fell over. The bike landed on top of him.

I got out of the car and rushed over to him. He was bleeding, but nothing too bad.

"What the _hell?"_ I grabbed Mello by his collar and shook the bastard.

"Matt, get off," he groaned, and tried to slap me away.

"No!" I shook him one last time, hard this time. "What's _wrong _with you?"

"I don't-" Mello pushed me off- "I don't love you anymore!"

"Why?" I asked.

"We were never right for each other."

"I _get_ you!" I argued. "No one else _gets _you."

Mello closed his eyes. "Don't make this hard on me."

"I _love _you."

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He shook his head. "Don't say that."

"Why?"

"Because! Just.. just don't. I don't want to hear it; I don't want anything from you except your friendship and cooperation. If I can't get your friendship, then I just want your cooperation. If I can't get either then fine. I don't need it."

"I thought you loved me." Numbness shot through my body and I sat next to him.

"Me, too." His words hurt me more than anything else. More than any shot wound, any stab wound, or any time he had gotten too rough during sex. I had never hurt so badly.

"So why did you ever go out with me if you didn't lo-"

"Damn it, Matt! Stop making this so hard on me!" He pulled his helmet off and pulled me into a kiss. It was angry and hard, and it hurt a little. But, through that, I didn't break it. I kissed him back until my body was so devoid of oxygen the I thought I would pass out. He pulled away first.

"Damn it!" he screamed, and pushed me back.

I fell hard onto the concrete and smacked my head. "Ow! What the hell?"

"That's exactly what I _didn't _want to do!" he yelled to himself.

I smirked and climbed on top of him. He leaned back slowly as I pushed forward, until he was lying on the pavement.

"Give me good reasons why you left me. And they better be really good," I murmured into his ear. I wasn't one to take charge like this, and the surprised look on Mello's face confirmed the rarity of my actions. Mello liked to take charge. He was always in charge. Even when he walked, the sway of his hips and the smirk on his face told the world that he was like no other. No one could top him.

But I was on top, now.

In the middle of the street, in the middle of the night, we made up for what we didn't do on my birthday.

We didn't even fully undress. I tugged his leather pants down with ease. It was almost as if all the adrenalin in my body was pumping to my arm muscles as I nearly ripped the tight leather off. I pulled my jeans down to my ankles and prepped Mello at the same time. Within a few seconds, I was fucking him like a dog in heat. I didn't feel my orgasm over my thoughts. All I knew, the only sensation I felt, was the joy of having Mello back.

His intense panting brought me back to the real world.

"What?" I asked.

His fist pounded into the ground. "When did you become so stubborn?" he asked in between pants.

"I'm always stubborn when it comes to getting what I really want," I told him as I pulled myself out of him and pulled my pants back up. "That's why I was so good at video games."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. With his plan to- whatever it was that he was trying to do- foiled, he was frustrated and on the edge of throwing a temper tantrum.

"Why did you leave me?" I asked.

"Stop acting like a needy girlfriend!" he snapped. He stood and sat on his motorcycle. A shiver ran through his body, and I realized it hurt him to sit down. I couldn't help but laugh, and he snapped again, "shut up! This is why I hate it when you're on top! You go too hard, and you revel in your glory when I'm in pain."

"But you liked it." I smiled as I spoke. He was so _cute._

He put his helmet back on and started the engine. He made a bat turn and drove back towards home. I got into the car and followed him.

When we got back, he pulled me through the door, ignoring the stares of everyone else. He dragged me into the bedroom and threw me onto the bed.

"Fine," he said, his eyes focused on me. They were crazy again; his pupils were small and his eye lids were open wide. He smiled, showing his teeth like a hungry 'gator. "I'll show you just how rough you are."

I didn't even remember how my clothes got off. The next thing I knew, he was on top, and I was screaming from a pain and pleasure that I had never felt before.

He held on to my shoulders, digging his nails into my flesh like he was trying to scratch my bone underneath. He jammed his hips into me, pounding his pulsing cock into my sweet spot, as if he had its position memorized. He nipped at the back of my neck, his teeth pulling my tight skin up as far as it would stretch, then letting it fall back into place.

He kissed my back, and licked up the blood he had drawn from where his nails were anchored in.

My body convulsed with every thrust of his hips, and my breath came in short pants. I was on my hands and knees, but my elbows gave in. Hy face fell onto my pillow, making my labored breathing even harder to sustain. I didn't care if I died right then and there.

Mello's moved his hands, removing his nails from the deep scratched they had created. That hurt, and I moaned.

Ignoring that, his strong arms moved underneath my armpits and pulled me upright so that I wasn't suffocating any more. He pulled me against his body and kissed my neck lovingly.

"Matt," he moaned into my neck as he kissed me. "Oh God, Matt."

One of his arms fell from underneath my armpit, and I started to fall sideways. His other hand grabbed me across my chest and help me upright. With his free hand, he grabbed my had cock and started rubbing.

I moaned, fully aware that everyone outside could hear.

He rubbed me more. That, combined with his thrusting, brought me to full ecstasy, and I came all over his hand and my pillow.

I screamed his name and felt his seed fill me. As if his orgasm traveled through my body, I let out another, quieter moan. It chorused with his louder one, and we both fell onto the bed, he on top of me.

He pushed himself off, and I crawled, fatigued, onto him and kissed him. We made out, the feelings of our lips on the other exciting us more than the sex we just had.

Blood from my shoulder dripped onto him and the bed sheets. Mello ran his hands over my shoulders, making the cuts burn.

He smiled. "You deserved it."


	23. Method of Seduction

It didn't take long for us to get into an awkward why-did-you-leave-me phase. I would ask, and he would refuse an answer. No matter what I said, how I begged, or how manipulative I was, I never got an answer. He would just shrug it off or play deaf, or the never-failing method of seduction to get my mind off of it.

That bastard.

"Why did you say you didn't love me anymore?" I pestered for the tenth time that day.

"Matt, are we... out of bread?" he asked from the grimy pantry of the hideout.

"_What?_ No, the girls brought some home yesterd- damn it, answer my question!"

"Question?" he asked, popping his head around the wall to look at me.

"Why did you do that?"

He disappeared back around the wall and sighed heavily, although he didn't respond.

"Aww, just answer th' kid," Tay whined.

Mello frowned, but Tay ignored him. The blonde boy tilted his head- a gesture that told me to follow him to the pantry.

When I got there, he pushed me into the wall forcefully. I found myself sandwiched in between the wall and his taller body, and my heartbeat increased.

"What?" I barked, trying to sound like this wasn't affecting me.

"You told me that if I left again, you wouldn't come after me." His eyes pierced into me, striking my souls like a hundred little daggers. He was angry. He was so, so angry with me.

I was overcome with a sudden flood of self-consciousness. My eyes floated to the point where our bodies touched, right around our groins.

"You promised me you wouldn't look for me again." He bucked his hips and grinded into me, giving me more pain than pleasure, which I'm sure was intentional.

"What?" I moaned out.

"That day, after the accident with the doctor. You told me that if I left, you wouldn't come looking for me." He grinded into me again. Didn't that hurt him, too? Damn, he had nuts of steel.

He grasped my shoulders and pushed his upper body against mine. Our bodies meshed up close, I could feel is heartbeat through my chest. He breathed into my forehead, and I broke out into a light sweat.

"I don't..." I didn't remember that accident, but I couldn't form the whole sentence with my sex drive turned up so high.

He bucked his hips and I listened to the sounds of the materials of our pants scratching together as more pain shot through me, weakened only by a small amount of pleasure that came after our contact.

A grind. This was very mellow and gentle, unlike the others. There was no pain at this contact, only a shot of pleasure that made my sturdy knees shake.

A moan escaped me, loud enough for everyone else to hear. Mello grinded into me again, with an annoying Cheshire-cat grin on his face. He slouched enough to nip at my neck, jaw, and ear. He pulled my head and hugged me, intertwining his fingers into my hair. I listened to the _lubdublubdublubdublubdub _of his heart as it raced. Was I making it do that?

"Why would you make it so hard on me?" he whispered into my hair. "Why would you come after me? Why didn't you keep your promise?" He sighed. "You're so unfair. I can't let go of you, now."

"Why did you want to let go of me?"

He grinded against me, soothing away my thoughts.

"Why?"

He grinded again and again, until my erection pulled my pants uncomfortably tight. He fumbled ungracefully with the zipper and freed my partner from its denim cage. It stood tall and proud in my boxer shorts, pitching a tent under the white threads.

"Why?" My voice was feeble and almost hard to understand.

He grinded again and again, rubbing the smooth material of my underwear against the head of my penis.

I came hard in my underwear and slid to the dirt floor as my legs went numb with the pleasure of the orgasm.

He slid to my lap and sat on my bare legs.

"Why?"

He pressed his lips against mine, and I lost my question in his mouth. My eyes closed, blocking my sweat from entering. My hands moved around his body, pinching him and scratching him as I claimed his body for myself. I touched every part of him I could, because every part of him belonged to me.

I liked that.

We pulled apart for air. "Wh-" And we were making out again.

It was almost aggravating how he wasn't letting me speak. And I wasn't so weak that I'd let myself fall to him completely. I pushed him off me and he fell over. My arms felt too weak from the orgasm to work, and I let out a frustrated cry.

Nobody dared come in.

"I asked you a question, damn it!" My heart raced had calmed down, but now it was racing again from anger.

He sat up and settled himself back on my legs. My arms shot forward to push him off again, but he grabbed my wrists with one hand and pinned them against the wall over my head.

"I don't think so, Matt," he cooed.

I struggled against his grasp. "Stop it! Let go of me! Get off!"

Although I was completely serious, he just licked his lips. "All you're doing when you fight," he began, kissing my neck, "is make me want you more."

"I'm serious, Mello. Get _off."_

He blue eyes slitted suspiciously, and my arms fell to my sides. He stood and stared at me, waiting for me to do the same. He didn't even extend his hand.

Fine.

I stood and pulled up my pants. I wiggled in them, uncomfortable from the wetness of my boxers.

Mello twisted around dramatically and began walking away.

"Don't walk away from me," I told his sternly. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head to look at me.

"What, Matt? You want to know why I left you?" he threw the thing closest to him, a plate, at the wall. "Because we're going to die, Matt. Maybe not at the same time, but we're not going to live much longer than this Kira case, if we even get to see the ends. I need you! Without you, I won't be bullet proof anymore. So I have to stop loving you. That way, if you die first, I'll be okay. And it's the same for you, Matt. I just wanted to protect us both! That's my job."

"You take this whole 'seme' thing a little too literally," I jested to his surprise. I pulled him into a hug, holding his arms against his body so that he couldn't hug back. "What kind of a lover would I be if I couldn't protect you back?" I wasn't sure what I was getting at, but I let myself talk in hopes of reaching some sort of conclusion. His rested his head on my shoulder as I finished my tangent with a quick, "I'd always come looking for you."

"I know," he answered. "You're so annoying."

"Persistent," I corrected.

"Right, right. My bad."

Tay walked in. "The happy couple all back together again? How nice. Don't have sex in the kitchen again; it's disgusting."

--

Mello had been ordering me around, having me do this and that to get ahead of Near on the case. I followed a peppy blonde bitch for a while, but that had been a little annoying. She was annoying as hell, and all she did was shop, work, and talk. Her voice was high-pitched and naggy, and her large boobs bounced with every skip.

I guess that was when it hit me that I really _was _gay. I had just never noticed before how much women turned me off.

Anyway...

I finally got off that case, and Mello had something else planned. Something so serious, that the look on his face told it all.

All he had to do was throw me my car keys and tell me where to drive.

It was a crisp night, kind of cold, but not too bad. It was getting dark as I listened to the trees pass on the distant whispers of Mello's motorcycle. The wind blew through my hair as I got into my red car and lit up.

I turned the ignition and sped off, the sounds of Mello's motorcycle too faint for even the wind to carry.

* * *

**A/N: this'll be winding down soon. It's gotten into yaoi fluff FTW. x3 **


	24. Last Cigarette

Around me, the streets were bare and dark, except for the two cars that were hot on my trail. They'd never catch up, though. The whole plot had been set out. Everything was looking up. Maybe Mello and I would be able to see the end of this Kira case. My eyes darted quickly to look at the goggle-orange blinking neon store lights as they flew past my windows. Not a single person was out on the streets.

Then I snapped back to reality as I looked straight ahead.

My eyes widened at the crowd that had blocked my escape route. I slammed on my breaks and drifted to the middle on the trap the police had laid out for me. The two cars that had been following me came to a stop behind my car, locking me into a circle of Kira-supporters. The headlights from their cars put mine under a spotlight. The light was blinding, so I left my goggles on.

_So those cars got ahead of me, huh? How many damn body guards does one woman need, anyway? _

The police held up their guns slowly, as if they moved in slow motion, and aimed at my car. Not a word was said as they threatened me with their weapons.

"Hey, c'mon; gimme a break!" I said as I got out of the car. I held up my hands in defeat and spoke smoothly. All I had to do was convince them to leave me unharmed. "Since when were the Japanese allowed to carry around such big guns? You got me; I'm part of this whole kidnapping incident. That means you'll have a lot of questions to ask. You won't shoot-"

Suddenly, the loud _Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! _of bullets pierced my ears, and the pain from the impacts sent me backwards. I collapsed against my car and took one, final, comforting drag of my last cigarette.

_Sorry, Mello._

And then I gave in to the pain.

**~Mello's POV**

My eyes drifted to the little screen displaying the latest news as I heard the anchor man talking about Matt. His car looked like swiss cheese, and half of his windshield was shattered. At that moment, Kira followers everywhere rejoiced. My heart and stomach felt as though they were being squeezed and tugged out of my chest at the same time. I muttered an apology to the redhead who had so blindly followed me, and kept driving.

_Matt's dead._

_He's _dead.

It felt unreal to me. I began sweating as my heart worked double time. I felt dizzy and my body went numb with shock. The blood drained from my head and seemed to settle in my toes. I drove subconsciously; totally unaware of my body. My soul waited for the tears to come, but the wait was in vain. I couldn't cry, not even for Matt. Maybe that wasn't it. Maybe I was out of tears. Looking back on my childhood years, I had cried more than my fair share of tears; gone through more than my fair share of hardships. Maybe there was just nothing left.

I regretted not leaving Matt behind. I just wanted to live in a different universe, where death didn't separate people.

Matt died because of me. Me and my need to beat Near. My obsession with being better than that little white bastard.

I let out a scream of pain suddenly as the realization of death struck me like never before. I had lost people before, and I had dealed. That's all there was to it. Just dealing. The loss of Matt required a lot more than just "dealing". I would never be "okay".

Suddenly, my insides hurt with something more than just grief.

My heart!

My breath caught in my throat as pain shot down my arms. I struggled to keep control of the van- no, I struggled to breathe- as my heart stopped beating. My arms went limp and the steering wheel turned independently.

I heard the crash as we went straight into the church and the car lit on fire.

_Sorry, Matt. _

I laid my head on the steering wheel as my eyes teared up.

Not one tear escaped.

**The End.**


	25. Epilogue: Questions

**~Near's POV**

The Death Note burned before my eyes as I held the worn leather between my fingers. Small, bright sparks took to the air and vanished suddenly, like two boys I used to know. It was all very nostalgic, and I wasn't one to dwell too much on the past; however, this was different. The sparks were gone, and so were the friends of mine; if you could really call them friends. Time bound us together, and roots. Hatred, as well, but that was so unpleasant.

_Mello was an unpleasant person, really. Always very quick to anger and to place the blame and save himself. I feel bad for Matt. We never really talked, but he was a good person when you set aside his bad taste in friends._

_Or love? I'll never really know if my suspicions of the two were real, or just that: suspicions. They were close, but they were all the other had. Like brothers. Or like lovers? Is it even important? Not unless I was going to investigate their deaths, which I'm not. No one ever will. I never want to know anything else.  
_

I let the last of the Death Note fall from as the dying embers ate the last inch of it. A small mountain formed, made of the ash of a notebook that had taken more lives than the three most famous serial killers combined.

I twisted a lock of white hair betwixt my fingers as a light breeze followed by a strong gust of wind nearly pushed me into the chalky substance. The ashes of the notebook took to the sky; the small particles fought the wind before scattering and vanishing out of my sight.

I stood. My knees and toes were stained green and brown from the grass and dirt.

"Let's go," I told the rest of the SPK.

_I beat Mello. I won. So what am I? Am I L?_

_I suppose I am. But I don't feel right, not without Mello. I never really believed I'd see the day where he wasn't competing against me. I always knew he'd die before me, even before he made the announcement he was leaving Wammy's. I always knew that his reckless personality would drive him to martyrdom. He'd die for his belief- the belief that he __was, in fact, better than me. I knew he'd let himself be killed, although I never thought he'd bring Matt with him._

_No, that's not right. It was an obvious accident. With that strong testosterone flow of him, Mello must have thought he was Superman, and that Matt's presence in the plot would be temporary. He must have thought, "I'll die, Matt'll get away, and that'll be that."_

_I'm sure that was his thought process._

_Or, did he think, "I love Matt, and I want us to die together"? No, Mello wouldn't ever put Matt in danger. Or was this an exception? Yes, this was an exception. But I'm sure you didn't get him killed on purpose. You would never do that. I wonder if Matt knew that he would die?  
_

_It takes a true fool to be such a martyr. Secretly, I admire Mello for being that fool, similarly to how I secretly admired L. Not that I'd ever let anyone know that. I may not have the obnoxiously overflowing pride of Mello, but I've never been humble. _

_In the end, I won against Mello. He killed off over half of the SPK, and I still won. Mello got himself killed and unknowingly laid down the path to catch Kira. _

_Had it been unconsciously?_

The SPK waited for me to move, but my legs refused to walk as my brain sorted out Mello's true motives.

_Mello wasn't an idiot. Intelligence-wise, at least. He wasn't stupid; even _I _could say that with ease. He had a high IQ, and, although he was so ambitious and arbitrary, L had seriously considered him as second. Here I am, patronizing him. Had he suspected Light Yagami? Mello, just how much did you know?_

"Near?" Giovanni called lightly. I didn't react.

_Did you put the pieces together for me, so that I could convict Light? Of course you did. Otherwise, you wouldn't have risked your life so carelessly. You knew, you just didn't know how to go about it.  
_

That was very unMello-like. The idea of him being so sure of anything didn't fit his personality.

_No, you didn't know what you were doing. You weren't one hundred percent sure that your actions would lead me to Kira, and so I don't think you suspected Light. Had you suspected him, you would have just killed him. Also, you would have gloated if you did. Or, had you kept the glory to yourself? Did you mature, Mello? _

That was false, as well.

_No, I refuse to believe that, after you pulled your gun on me that time. You didn't know that you help me catch Kira, but you hoped it would. And you also weren't planning Matt's or your own deaths, although you were willing to take the chance. I believe that much. You went with your instinct. You put yourself in danger and passed the baton to me. I know I would have never had the ability to convict Light without you.  
_

_In retrospect, I wonder if it was really I that won._

**The End.**

**Hope you liked it! Look out for more of my MattxMello stories! I have a few more up, so you can go read them. x33 ILY GUYSSS.  
**


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